Dead Man Walking
by xX-Misty
Summary: 2011-set sequel to Whispering Her Name; Awakening in Arthur Layton's body in the real world in 2011, Jim Keats finds himself with both the opportunity and the perfect disguise to exact revenge on those who have wronged him in the past.
1. Prologue: One Body for the Taking

_**A/N This is the 2011-set sequel to Whispering Her Name. I don't own A2A of course. I do unfortunately own Evan's rogue second career as a beard model, although I wish I didn't. The rating of this story may change to M. This has nothing to do with the beards. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!**_

~xXx~

**Prologue**

His eyes moved around the stark white hospital room, taking in every detail. It seemed unbelievable. It _all _seemed unbelievable and too good to be true. He'd though that after a night's sleep he would wake up to find it had all been some kind of dream, but there he was, still in the twenty first century.

"Good morning, Arthur," A kindly young nurse entered and promptly stuck a thermometer under his arm, "you'll be having your bed bath shortly and then we'll need to assess your mental state. There are some police officers who would like to talk to you soon."

He felt a pang of worry strike him, but quickly realised it was nothing he couldn't handle. He's been through worse than a few questions from some wet-behind-the-ears copper.

"How long," he tried to speak but his voice was strange and unfamiliar, "until I can walk?

"Get some strength back first, Arthur, we'll see how you get on in the next few days, OK?" he took the thermometer from under his arm, made a note on his chart and left the room.

Who the hell was he supposed to be? Where exactly had he ended up? He tried to mentally retrace his steps. He remembered the car crash. Some stupid animal running out in front of him. The events leading up to the crash… well, they were a little hazier. He'd already started to work on blocking them out even as he drove along. He vaguely remembered a roof and something about Alex.

It didn't really matter, anyway. It wasn't like Alex or Gene or anyone else was going to find him now.

"_Time for your bed bath, Arthur."_

Bollocks. He'd been really rather hoping that the attractive female nurse was going to give him his bed bath. Instead a slightly warty male nurse appeared instead. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers. At least it would get rid of some of the scummy feeling he had. Whose body was this anyway? It certainly wann't a patch on the one he'd left behind.

He looked at his arms. They were scrawny, hairy, and a tattoo sat upon one of them. His hands looked weathered as though he'd been sleeping on the streets or working outdoors for years. He looked down as his pyjamas were opened and the focus of the bed bath moved to a new location. His chest was bony, he swore he could see ribs. Eventually he couldn't stand to look at this wreck of a body any longer and looked away.

"Time for a shave, Arthur," the nurse said, armed with a razor and foam to aim in his direction.

He supposed his face was probably as crumbling and decrepit as the rest of his body. _But still, all the better the disguise,_ he thought.

His mind went back to how he came to be there. He recalled the crash and the feeling that the car might never stop spinning. What was wrong? Something to do with the brakes. He'd tried to stop so he wouldn't hit the dumb creature in front of him and ended up in a spin. He remembered finally coming to a halt and blackness descending as a terrible pain seared through his head. The steering wheel might have had something to do with that. Then…

After that it was all a blur. He vaguely remembered a feeling like he was lifting. Rising. There was a terrifying swirl of energy and he tried to catch a ride alongside it. Wherever it was going, he was going too.

And then… well, that was all he could recall, until now. Until the night before, when he opened his eyes.

Or someone else's.

The feeling of the foam and steel against his flesh was strange. It felt as though he'd been asleep forever. He felt like a stranger in someone else's body, an intruder. He couldn't understand how this was even possible but this didn't seem to be the time to question it. He just lapped up the moment, every stroke of the razor reminding him that he was, somehow, very much alive.

"All done, Arthur," the nurse said. To Keats's surprise he turned around and lifted a mirror for him to see. "There."

Keats drew in his breath. This was it. The moment he would see the face to which he had been delivered.

And there it was, right there in the mirror before him.

The ragged face, the dark circles and sunken eyes, the scar along his cheek and the matted hair that even the hospital couldn't seem to bring to life. He swallowed. The face was familiar. He knew who it was. His eyes scanned the room again. He hadn't seen it before but there on the open door was his name.

"Patient Name: LAYTON, Arthur"

_Shit._

"I'm Layton," his words escaped before he had a chance to hold them back.

"Yes, that's right," said the nurse, "Arthur Layton. Memory coming back?"

Keats eyed him warily.

"I'll be bringing back a few memories alright," he warned.

The nurse seemed not to hear. Either that or he just ignored him. He'd heard enough jabbering idiots waking from comas to take anything he said with a pinch of salt for the foreseeable future, that was for certain.

As far as Keats was concerned that suited him just fine. Play the poor, confused patient card for a few days, give him time to gather some strength and to plan his game. The next step… well, he had so many choices. Where to go, who to find first – so many decisions to make and his eyes were growing heavy again.

Never mind. _For now, sleep_. When he opened his eyes again the twenty first century would still be there. And so would all of his anger and his rage, dwelling, growing, and waiting for a place to go.


	2. Chapter 1: Detectives, Donors & DNA

**Chapter 1**

He couldn't get used to this skin; this rotting, decrepit body that he'd woken up within. His situation was a bizarre twist of fate but it most certainly had its downsides. No wonder the body seemed such a wreck. He remembered Arthur Layton. He remembered him as the desperate, drug-addled man who had sought his help providing the details he needed to pursue various lines of blackmail. He'd been in a state back then. Physically he seemed several times worse off than that now.

He could see a pile of stinking, retched clothes folded and laid on a chair in the corner. Was that all he had? Were those the clothes he would be forced to wear to leave this hospital? Oh well, it would be a small price to pay for the chance to run free in the real world with no one to stop him from carrying out the acts that had been playing eagerly through his mind all day.

A nurse appeared with a couple of gentlemen hanging back a little behind her.

"Arthur, are you feeling up to a few questions?" she asked.

Keats shuffled upright a little more. He was finding it difficult to control these strange, unwieldy limbs. Clearing this throat, he nodded.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said.

"Good," said the nurse as she stepped to one side. Two rather large, rather foreboding figures approached. "These two gentlemen are here to talk to you about how you ended up here and the events that led up to your accident, alright?" She gave him a friendly smile before leaving the room.

The two detectives loomed large.

"Mister Layton," one of them began, "My name is DS Fullerton," he showed Keats some ID, "and this is DI March. We would like to as you a few questions."

Keats leaned back and took a moment to reply.

"Go ahead," he said eventually.

"How good is your memory of your accident?" Fullerton asked.

Keats put on a wounded expression.

"Oh my, it's all such a blur," he said, "Can't remember a thing."

"Do you recall the use of a firearm in the moments leading up to your accident?" asked DI March.

Again, a faux-innocence fell upon his features.

"Sorry, sir, I can't remember a thing. The old memory's not what it used to be."

"Hmm. I'm sure that will have something to do with the drugs you put in your system before taking to the roof," DS Fullerton said.

Keats opened his mouth to reply but – _wham_ – suddenly something came back to him. A roof… there _was_ a roof… certainly not a roof in 2011 though.

_Top of Fenchurch West… there was Alex… Gene… Simon… Kim…_

He shook his head to get rid of the images that were coming back to him and tried to get his mind back into gear.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember anything about a roof."

"You don't remember much, do you?" asked Fullerton.

"Must have knocked a few brain cells loose," Keats smiled, but the look on the faces of the two detectives soon called a halt to that.

"Hmm," said March, "we'll see, won't we?" he glanced at Fullerton. "Let's leave Mister Layton to catch up on some sleep. See if that jogs any memories." He nodded to Keats. "We shall be back, sir. Never you fear. We'll be back."

"Don't doubt that," Keats called out after them with a charming smile. As they vanished and spoke to the guards on the door his smile faded and turned into a glower. He couldn't help them even if he wanted to. He was just a lodger here. Layton's body was just a stop-gap while he put to rights a few pieces of unfinished business.

He watched the clock on the wall. The beautiful ticking that told him he was alive. He closed his eyes and leaned back to once again allow sleep to take control and to build up the energy that he would surely need for the days ahead.

~xXx~

"I've got a favour to ask you, Robin."

Robin stirred his coffee and looked at Kim. He'd been surprised to get the call asking to meet up after just seeing her the night before.

"If it involves recording the repeat of Evan's edition of _Dispatches_ then hard luck, no can do," he said.

"No, this is something serious," said Kim. She saw Robin looking anxious. "It's nothing bad," she said quickly, "at least, I don't think so." She paused and looked at her mug, this was awkward. She bit her lip and drew in a deep breath. "Linda and me… we've been talking about having another baby."

"And you want to call it Robin?"

Kim pulled a face.

"Pfft, no thanks."

"Hey! What's wrong with my name?"

Kim shook her head,

"That's beside the point," she said, "Robin, our previous donor is no longer in the area and he'd not interested in helping us a third time. So –"

She fell silent hoping that she wouldn't need to finish that sentence. Robin stared at her, awaiting some further explanation. When none came he realised he'd better figure out what she was talking about himself. At first he thought she was going to ask him to track the guy down but her expression suggested it was more than that and suddenly it dawned on him what she meant.

"_Me?"_ he asked, a little incredulously, "you want me to," he felt himself flush, _"donate?"_

"There's no one else we'd ask," said Kim.

Robin stared at her. His mind had gone blank. Completely, totally and utterly blank.

"That's a big ask, Kim," he said, shaking his head a little.

"I know," Kim said quickly, "take your time thinking it through, don't rush – take all the time you need."

Robin couldn't quite process the question.

"So…" he cleared his throat. This was the type of discussion that made him feel, in the words of an eight year old_, 'icky'_. "Would we have to…" he pulled a face, "you know."

"No, no, nothing like that," Kim laughed a bit at the thought, "we went through a lab before. This time we can't afford it, it would be home insemination."

Robin cringed. This wasn't language he wanted to hear.

"So how do I…" he couldn't believe he was saying this, "leave my contribution?"

"You'll do it in a pot."

Robin almost choked on the coffee he wasn't drinking any more and had been turned off of for life.

"I can't do that!" he cried, "What if I…" he swallowed hard and rotated between blushing and turning a deathly pale, _"mis-aim?"_

"You can do it at a clinic if that makes you feel better?" Kim suggested.

Robin shuddered.

"In what weird, alternative reality would that make me feel better?" he cried.

"Rob, you don't have to do this," Kim reminded him, "there's no pressure at all."

Robin chewed nervously on his lip.

"What… what kind of an arrangement would this be?" he asked.

"We just want your DNA, nothing more," said Kim.

"Great, now I'm a science experiment!"

Kim sighed.

"The baby would be brought up by me and Linda. You don't have to do a thing. The child never even has to know. You can just be fun Uncle Robin who turns up every time the X Files is repeated and arrives with pizza once a week."

Robin tried to think it through but the whole concept was too big.

"I… I just don't know, Kim" he said, "I'm not saying no, I just…" he sighed and shook his head a little. "I need to think about this. _Really_ think about it."

"Of course," said Kim. She held up her palms. "Wouldn't have expected anything less."

Robin started re-stirring his coffee with vigour, Anything to take the emphasis away from the thought of giving Kim a batch of little swimming micro-Robins in a cup. He waited until a reasonable length of time had passed before speaking again so that the change of subject didn't seem too obtuse.

"You know what I heard at work today?" he asked.

Kim sipped her coffee and looked at him.

"The sound of dogs barking?" she teased.

Robin pulled a face.

"Thank you for your contribution of comedy," he said. His face grew serious. "Layton woke up today."

Kim's face dropped. It didn't seem so funny now.

"He's conscious?" She whispered as Robin nodded. "I thought they couldn't find enough brain activity?"

"Maybe that's just Layton normally?" joked Robin, but his heart wasn't in the gag. He looked at Kim, a little sadly. "Kind of brings it back. Doesn't it?"

Kim nodded slowly.

"Certainly does," she said quietly.

"They've spoken to him to see how his memory is doing," Robin told her, "looks like he's playing some games."

"Doesn't surprise me," Kim shuddered. Her hand rose involuntarily to the gunshot wound on her neck. It was starting to heal fairly well but she knew she was left with that reminder for life, an echo from her time in Gene's world. A mark she'd left behind.

"There's no way of knowing yet what kind of condition he's in mentally or physically," Robin told her, "but they'll be transferring him to the prison hospital as soon as they have the go ahead. They're not taking any chances with that one."

"Good," said Kim. His manic face still haunted her in her nightmares, the frantic expression as he stood on the roof, the look in his eyes as he fired a bullet that wasn't even meant for her. "Robin?"

"Hmm?"

Kim swallowed. She felt a little nervous suddenly, "how-how did that bullet miss you?"

Robin felt as though he'd taken a punch to the guts from that question. He looked down at his coffee. He wasn't making much progress drinking that, was he? He let out his breath and shook his head slowly. He felt himself shaking just a little.

"I ask myself that every single night, Kim," he whispered, "and I never come any closer to finding an answer."

As she watched his anxious expression Kim realised it was perhaps not a question she should have asked. Robin's skin seemed awfully pale suddenly. She reached out and laid her hand over his, telling him in that touch that it was OK, he didn't have to answer or think about it any longer.

"One of those things, Rob," she said quietly, "it happened. Now let's forget it."

Robin nodded slowly.

"Yeah," he whispered, "let's. Please."

Kim smiled thinly but knew that the answer to her question was one that they may never figure out and from the expression on Robin's face he may not even want to. For now all she could do was to turn her attention back to her coffee and try not to think about the impossible bullet she'd taken.

~xXx~

Keats awoke from a dreamless sleep to hear voices outside of the hospital room. Having natural, human sleep was certainly a strange and unfamiliar thing for him to experience. It had been a very long time since he'd taken a night's sleep in a real bed, closed his eyes and drifted away. However, this particular sleep had been disturbed by 'visitors' lurking in the corridor and he wasn't sure he liked that. He frowned and pulled himself up a little in bed. He could feel his limbs growing stronger now. They might have been scrawny and left much to be desired aesthetically but his arms and legs were gaining motility and strength with every moment that passed.

He craned his neck to one side and tried to catch a little of the conversation happening outside of the door. He could hear two voices, one slightly louder than the other. The softer voice said something along the lines of _stabilising_ and _good recovery_, then _out of ICU in the next twenty four hours_.

_Good,_ thought Keats, _that's got to be good. I'm getting stronger, Well, good old Arthur here is, anyway._

In the next moment his hope was taken away from in in a heartbeat.

"_Brilliant news, we'll transfer him to the prison hospital tomorrow."_

Instantly Keats's heart began to thump at such a volume he thought it could be heard from outside the room. He gasped and held his crusty hands to his mouth. _No – this is not part of the plan!_ Going to the prison hospital was the worst thing that could happen. He needed to be out and free. He would stand no chance of getting out into the world from the other side of the fence. How could they justify locking him away anyway? They hadn't even charged him yet!

_This is not an option_; his mind screamed to him over and over, _prison hospital is not an option._

It might not have been an option but with less than 24 hours to think of an alternative in a crumbling, crusty body it seemed his plans were doomed for failure before they had even begun.


	3. Chapter 2: Fear, Flight & Fire Escapes

**Chapter 2**

Living in someone else's head can lead to some interesting experiences, as Keats was finding out. It had been a long and difficult night, in complete contrast to the night before. Every second of the night that passed was filled with nightmarish thoughts, half-reconstructed memories from the mind of Layton that were floating around and allowing him to access them somehow.

There were terrible flashbacks and hallucinations, the images of a rooftop somewhere, surrounded by people. It looked like… looked like Alex, somehow. And others. There was a man… definitely familiar but the memory was unclear. His features were distorted. And a woman, who he was certain he knew but he couldn't see her face well enough to identify her. There were a couple of others as well… one seemed to be a beard who was sobbing its heart out. He assumed there must have been a person attached to the beard but he couldn't be certain of that.

There was a feeling of absolute desperation. A terrifying feeling of guilt so strong that he could hardly breathe. There was a blur…. Running… a need to get away. A shot fired, a car, spinning – over and over the images played and every time he awoke he'd fall back to sleep and the same nightmares would go around again.

As it got to morning he became increasingly aware that his time was running out. He knew he was on a countdown. He was desperate, he had a strength and urgency that came from the twisted desire to venture into the world and cause as much suffering as he was able in whatever time he had in the land of the living.

He tried to focus on what he knew for certain. There were positives. Most of the equipment had been disconnected now. He was thriving. No wonder they were ready to move him out of ICU.

"Good morning, Arthur."

The smiley, pretty, petite blonde nurse entered the room with a trolley of tablets and equipment.

"Good morning," Keats tried to flash a charming smile but it was hard when he only had Layton's features to do it with.

"How are we feeling today?" she asked as the thermometer loomed large. Keats opened his mouth to reply that he was feeling just fine but at the last moment something stopped him and he hesitated. The nurse looked at him a little anxiously as he finally said.

"I'm feeling a little faint… a little dizzy."

"Hmm, sorry to hear that Arthur," the nurse pulled down his eyelids which disturbed him a little, then said, "put your tongue out."

Keats felt a little alarmed by the instruction but followed it anyway with a little gag and a splutter.

"You might be anaemic," the nurse told him, "I'll go and speak with your consultant. She might want to check your iron levels." She jammed the thermometer under his arm as expected and left the room.

As he awaited her return he began to look around the room, taking in every single detail. There had to be something he could use. Something to get him out of that room before someone came to take him away to somewhere wholly more secure. A few ideas began to formulate in his head, accompanied by a desperate rage that seemed to be growing stronger with every moment that passed. He could feel himself getting stronger, almost incrementally with every second he watched on the clock. It wasn't just his own rage that he was brewing but the anger and fury of the man known as Arthur Layton that was slowly creeping into him too.

Just as he'd been dwelling on his feelings of anger and desperation for what seemed like an eternity a rather stuffy and professional-looking doctor entered the room.

"Now, Mister Layton, I hear you're feeling a little unwell today, is that right?" she asked, adjusting her spectacles and throwing her black ponytail over her shoulder.

"Yes," Keats began, weakening his voice as much as he dared, "just faint and dizzy, like the room is spinning."

"I'll take some bloods," the doctor told him, "we'll run your iron levels to check for anaemia and run a few more tests to be on the safe side, although after all you've been through it's not that surprising you feel the way you do." She drew out a needle and reached for the crusty, rotting hand that Keats hated to call his own, at least for now, "I'll use the cannula, you won't feel a thing."

As she aimed the needle towards the port, all that anger and rage built up inside of him with an explosion of power and terror that almost shook the walls. He turned to her, his eyes flashing with fury as he hissed,

"No, but _you_ might," grabbed the needle from her hand and as fast as anything plunged it into her throat. The gagging and gasping of the doctor brought Keats to close his eyes just momentarily, absorbing the sounds of agony from another human being. He relished it. Oh, he loved that sound. He had forgotten just how vibrant that sound was in the land of the living.

Alerted by the commotion the two guards on the door turned to peer into the room. Seeing the doctor's pain, they raced in but Keats had every move planned out. Throwing his covers back with one hand he grasped the drip stand with the other and took an almighty swing at the head of one of the guards, sending him flying, before jamming the end if the stand into the stomach of the second guard. It stalled them for long enough for Keats to run to the door and, in a slightly unnecessary and showy move, he took the time to grab the sharps bin from the side of the doorway and slam it upside down over the guard's head as he ran towards him before racing from the room and down the nearest corridor.

_Freedom… freedom… freedom…_

That one word played through his head again and again as his legs took him along the smooth, shiny floor. He knew he had but moments to make his escape. Every second would count beyond belief. His heart beat faster as he spotted a _'fire escape' _sign and followed the illuminated man. The man on the sign looked like he was running from something too. Keats wondered who was after him.

Sure enough, around the corner there was a fire escape and he quickly threw open the alarmed door. As a shrill bell rang out he raced down the staircase in the open air. The feeling of the wind against his skin was strange and stirring. So funny how going from the real world to Gene's world made you marvel at how real everything felt – but going back the other way after you breathed your last felt like such a revelation.

His desperation spurred him on and although his body was frail and aching from head to toe he wouldn't slow down, not for anything. There, right before him in the car park was a slightly tubby gentleman just locking up his car. Under one arm was a briefcase, under the other was a newspaper turned to the crossword. The crossword was half-dine, and mostly incorrect, but that wasn't the part that interested Keats.

Arriving at the bottom of the staircase his elbow made sharp contact with the gentleman's head and knocked him sideways where his head struck a wall and he fell to the ground, unconscious. His eyes darted from side to side and the dumpsters right behind them were an ideal cover. As quick as a flash he pulled the man behind them and stripped him of his jumper, which he pulled on over his unflattering hospital gown, then pulled down his trousers and dressed in those too. They were loose and even with the belt they wouldn't stay up properly, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Finally he took the car keys from the ground, unlocked the car and dived in almost before he realised what he was doing.

As he started the engine and absorbed the beautiful sound of it roaring away he pressed his foot to the accelerator and made his exit from the hospital grounds just as security and doctors began to filter from every exit, on the hunt for the escaped patient.

The whoop of joy he gave was born of a deeply intense elation, the kind of which he had rarely felt in his life – or his death. His eyes shone with ecstasy and a shower of relief washed over him from head to toe. However, that moment of bliss was short-lived as the truth began to dawn upon him that soon his image – well, Layton's image - would be all over the news and a description of the car would soon follow.

He needed a plan. He had to find a way to propel him straight to the revenge he ached to carry out. He felt lost suddenly and a little alone. He had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. It wasn't as though he had any friends in the first place, let alone anyone who would buy the "_Surprise! I'm just lodging here!"_ excuse for arriving in Layton's body.

There was one place that he knew well. One place he felt safe and reassured. One place with such familiarity that, even though he knew it could be in any kind of condition, he felt drawn to with such vigour that he couldn't bring himself to do anything else. Not until he'd been there for himself.

With a deep breath to steady his nerves he made a sharp left and began to drive at speed toward The Falcon Building. It was time to go home.

~xXx~

Robin was doing his best to concentrate but work really wasn't happening. He couldn't get him mind away from two contrasting areas; Layton's awakening and Kim's 'favour'.

He gave a deep sigh as he returned the file to the top of one stack and picked up another file from the pile beside it. He shook his head slightly as he opened the folder and tried to concentrate. All he could think about were a garbled mix of things. The concept of Layton once again being awake and coherent made him feel somewhat uncomfortable. The last time he'd seen his face, he saw him aiming a gun in his direction.

Thoughts of Kim's_ proposal_ were plaguing him too. He couldn't seem to get it off his mind. He knew he wasn't likely to have children through any other way and his family line would die with him. Even though he wouldn't be involved, the thought of leaving his mark on the wold genetically did give him a sense of interest in her plan.

But it was such a _huge_ concept. He couldn't wrap his head around it, no matter how hard he tried – and he'd been trying since the day before. He sighed and tried to process the concept of even… _making the donation_. He had to admit he was a bit of a prude and having some quality moments alone with a jar of some kind didn't fill him with joy.

"Sir?"

The door opened and a rather anxious sergeant arrived.

Robin looked up. He was glad of the distraction, whatever it was.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

The sergeant looked a little awkward.

"Sir, they've asked you to go to CID, there's an urgent matter arising."

Robin's interest was caught.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"The dogs are needed for a man hunt," the sergeant told him, "it's Arthur Layton."

That was it. That was the moment, _right there, _where Robin felt as though his stomach dropped right out of his body and his head exploded.

"Layton?" he breathed, almost unaware that he'd spoken.

The sergeant nodded.

"Escaped from hospital," he said, "he attacked a doctor and two guards. They found a man unconscious in the car park too."

All of a sudden everything else that had been going round in Robin's head just disappeared. He was left to focus on one thing and one thing only; the fear of Arthur Layton on the loose, what a man with that much inner guilt mixed with manic evil could do, especially together with the desperation of a man on the run.

He was already up on his feet. He didn't even remember standing up. It was some in-built impulse within him that he couldn't override. Before he knew it he was out of the door and halfway to CID. To say he had a bad feeling about this was the understatement of the century. Something dark began to brew inside of him and he couldn't fight the feeling that things were about to go seriously in a direction that scared him witless.


	4. Chapter 3: Dogs, Dads & Disappointment

**Chapter 3**

"This is Chief Inspector Robin Shoebury-Thomas. Alongside Detective Inspector Drake he traced Arthur Layton after he'd spent two and a half years on the run. From the rooftop confrontation during which all parties were threatened with a firearm he has a unique insight into the mental condition of Mister Layton and he's going to talk to you a little about the man we're trying to trace. Robin?"

Robin gulped. When he was told that they needed the dogs to track an escaped Layton he'd thought that was as bad as things could get. Now suddenly he was giving a team of detectives and police a psychological insight into his mental state? This hadn't been part of the plan when he got up that morning.

He stood and stared at the crowd of expectant faces, intermixed with a few dogs. _They_ were looking at him fairly expectantly too. He wished Cassandra was amongst them. It was never the same without her there.

"Arthur Layton," he was surprised by how much his voice shook as he spoke, "is a very twisted and disturbed man. He is suffering from an enormous guilt complex which he tried to cover up by seeking bribes from those who he'd helped in a criminal sense in the past. His failed drug empire led to him becoming extremely bitter. In recent years he found himself in extreme financial despair which caused him to seek funds through the bribes and he had managed to get away with this until he started trying to extort money from Evan White."

A hum of boos and jeers rose from the crowd, while one or two began shaving spontaneously as a mark of disapproval at Evan and his conduct.

"Evan is Alex Drake's godfather and took her in after the death of her parents. A death that Arthur Layton had more than a hand in." He closed his eyes as he remembered that terrible rooftop confrontation and the truths that came out. His heart ached for Alex. Her history was tragic, that was for certain. "Caroline Price, Alex's –" he paused, "_DI Drake's_ mother, and Evan had an affair. Tim Price, her father, found out about this and asked Layton to rig up a bomb to kill him, his wife and Alex. Layton has spent many years carrying around the guilt attached to what he did. His bribes were not just an attempt to gain money but also to convince those who had hired his services to admit blame so that he could shed the responsibility."

He paused and tried to take a moment to compose himself. This wasn't a topic he even wanted to think about, let alone talk about.

"Arthur Layton has no regard for his actions, despite his guilt complex. He is quite willing to add further lives to his total body count. He shot two men that Nick Nailer sent after him, and also attempted to shoot me. He – _missed,"_ he choked on that lie. _'Missed'?_ His aim was spot on. "But that bullet still found flesh and Layton didn't care." He found himself shuffling a little on the spot. "Layton may be weakened physically by his accident but his mental state is rabid and volatile. He's been abusing narcotics for years. Decades, perhaps. This coupled with his desperation and his sense of guilt and injustice make him a very dangerous target indeed."

He stepped back to signal his speech was over. It didn't do to think about Layton for too long. The man who'd introduced him stepped back to the front and nodded.

"Thank you, Chief Inspector," he said, then turned to the crowd. "You've been assigned your areas," he said, "let's find this man before he can add to his guilt complex, hmm?"

Robin exhaled as he watched the crowd disperse. He hadn't enjoyed that in the slightest.

"Bloody hell, what did I have to do that for?" he muttered to himself.

The ma turned to him and reached out to shake his hand.

"Thanks for that, very valuable" he said.

Robin wasn't sure how valuable his insights had been. It wasn't like the others didn't already know how desperate and depraved Layton was. He shook the man's hand and said,

"That's OK."

"You are coming to the hospital with the canine team, right?" the man asked.

It wasn't exactly Robin's location of choice but he didn't see he had any choice in the matter He knew where he was needed.

"I'm heading over now," he said.

As he reached for his car keys he couldn't quite comprehend what was going on. How had this happened? How had someone like Layton been able to cause such chaos and overpower two guards and a doctor? In a weak and crumbling body like that it seemed completely ridiculous. Something didn't sit right with Robin. Not right at all.

~xXx~

As he pulled up outside of the familiar building Keats felt a wild shudder travel down his spine. It was a building where he'd spent so many years of his life – and so many months of his death. He'd been lodging in the empty flat that his comatose younger self lived in for so long, but seeing it in the real world again, in its dilapidated and almost forgotten state made him feel strange and almost nostalgic

"_I'm home,"_ he whispered.

He opened the car door and slipped out as fast as possible. He knew he didn't have long. He wished he'd stolen the tubby man's watch as well as his jumper and trousers. At least then he might be able to time himself and make sure he wasn't there for long.

He quickly made his way to the back of the building. Ahh, there it was, the old fire escape. _Same old, same old._ He knew there would be a door open somewhere. There always was. It was just a matter of finding it, and this time he found it on the first floor. He rushed inside and soon found his way up another set of stairs and to the doorway he'd passed through so many times.

There was a loose board covering the entrance to the flat. It shocked him to see. At least it looked like it would be easy to remove, he thought, but the whole concept of it being in the place of his door made him shudder. As he stepped forward and placed his hands around its sides to test its strength a strange flash came into his mind. He could see, all at once, the memories of someone else who had passed through that doorway, long after his death.

"_Mister Layton, I see you've already visited my humble abode in my absence,"_ he hissed a little venomously. He was starting to dislike sharing a body with the thoughts and drives of Arthur Layton. It wouldn't be so bad if it was at least aesthetically acceptable but the state of it made him want to wretch.

Even with Layton's weak limbs it took only a moment to wrench the board from the doorway and to slip inside. The fact that the power was still on surprised him, but not as much as the state of the place. The stench of the little yellow messages that boozy folk had decided to leave for the twisted bastard, the trashed lounge where people had taken away their 'souvenirs' of the evil one, the half-eaten, rotting sandwich that Layton had left there weeks previously – they were all signs to Keats that his passing had left some ripples through the land of the living.

He walked slowly through to the bedroom. What would he find? Would there be anything left? He was surprised to find that the room was in much better condition than the lounge. It seemed the friendly neighbourhood pissers didn't venture that far. His papers were certainly in a smaller stack than he remembered. He supposed many had been taken away by whatever unfortunate twat had to do the job of investigating him after he died. He was half right – many had.

His eyes were drawn to a floorboard that had been pulled up and left to one side and immediately his heart began to race. He dropped to his knees and felt around under the floor. To his horror the bribe list and all the other details were gone.

"Fuck!" He cried, "The fucking gits!"

That was going to be his key – that was going to be part of his plan! Layton's bribe list plus Layton's body equalled perfect way to scare a lot of people shitless. There was no use in having the body without the list to go with it!

As his hand scrambled around below the boards his fingers brushed something unusual and he managed to get a firm enough grasp over it to pull it into the daylight. To his huge surprise it was a shoe.

"So who took my papers?" he mumbled, "Cinderella?"

He cast the shoe aside and walked to the closet where he found most of his clothes had been removed some time ago. He swore and cursed. Nothing was going right, _nothing._ He began to feel the pressure truly for the first time. There were so many aspects at work here. It wasn't just being on the run but it was the physical issue too. He realised for the first time just how weakened this wreckage truly was. His anger and desperation had given him the adrenaline he needed to push on but now he found himself in a slight lull the comedown was bringing a weak feeling to his bones and a full feeling to his bladder.

Everything else could wait for a few minutes, he decided. He needed a piss. He walked to the bathroom and flicked on the light which blinked once or twice and then popped on. Suddenly he found a mirror before him. Aside from a brief glance in a tiny mirror the day before it was the first time he'd had the chance to truly take a look at the body he'd inherited and the full impact of what he saw brought a violent sense of nausea to his throat.

The face… that face so gaunt, so tattered, scarred and twisted. The hair that lay lankly around his neck. The eyes… the sunken, haunted eyes. He swallowed as he stared. It was an uncomfortable sight, but he needed to see the whole thing, head to toe. He had to confront it to be able to understand what he was dealing with so he pulled the jumper over his head and finally managed to rid himself of the hospital smock. In the mirror he saw rough, pale flesh hanging around the bone. He remembered Layton from years before and he'd been skinny enough at the time. Now he was positively skeletal. Did Layton ever eat? It wasn't for want of hunger, Keats was fairly sure of that, a deep gnawing of hunger ravaging his stomach as he stared. There was a hunger of another kind in this body too; a deep dark and desperate desire for a hit that Layton would need so often that he could barely function without it. That was strange and different. Keats was many things but he was no drug addict. Being in a body ruled by those impulses was starting to grind on him.

There was still one more thing to see, he realised, as his full bladder reminded him why he'd arrived in the bathroom in the first place. With a sigh and a slight shudder he unfastened the belt and allowed the large trousers to slide to the floor. He took a deep breath and glanced downwards. He gulped.

"So you're not gifted in… _any_ area then, Mister Layton," he cringed. That was the biggest knock of all for Keats. As though the withering body and crusty face weren't bad enough now he had a shrivelled little micro-willy too. _Great._ If he was honest, that was one of the body parts he wanted to try to put to good use while he was back in the real world. That was yet another hunger he was eager to satisfy.

He approached the toilet bowl and relieved himself, hardly standing to touch what seemed to be Layton's least used appendage and quickly pulled the trousers back up. He knew that his short time here was running out and he would need to move on.

He walked back into the bedroom and stood, surveying the scene. There had to be something he could salvage. Anything at all? There was his coat, lying over a chair as though someone had been trying it on in his absence so he snatched that up and rummaged through a drawer for a notebook that he was relieved to find still there. He tucked it in his pocket and then hesitated. There was one other thing he needed. Something he couldn't leave without, no matter how strange it seemed from the outside. Even Keats had his weaknesses.

He walked towards the side of the room and found his personal, past papers. It looked as though someone had been fiddling with those as well, but they didn't seem to have touched his photographs. He didn't have very many – the whole idea was too sentimental and pointless, but there was one that he couldn't walk away without.

It didn't take him long to find it, the photograph from four decades ago; a man and a woman standing side by side, not looking particularly happy yet both as young and fresh as the springtime. That man and woman had each provided half of his genes. It was the only photograph he had of the two of them together. He knew very little of his father and what he did know made him certain he didn't want to know any more but that photograph was the one thing he had always kept with him. He wasn't going to leave it behind.

Quickly he folded it in half and slipped it into his pocket before he took one last look around. This had been his home for so long and through so much but he knew he wouldn't be safe there now. He knew Layton had been there. If Layton was associated with the place, it wouldn't be long before flashing blue lights were heading in his direction.

He tore down the fire escape and out to the car. He would have to dump that soon, too. He took the notebook out of his pocket and opened it quickly. It was the only thing he had left connected to Layton's bribe list since someone had seen fit to pinch the rest of the papers. He turned to the final page that had been filled. It contained the details from the last meeting he'd had with Layton before he disappeared after making a big mistake and letting his eagerness to fire his gun get the better of him.

In fact…

As Keats stared at the page the truth just about dawned on him. He hadn't linked it up before but he knew now who Layton had been aiming his gun at on the fateful day he fired the trigger. There in the book before him were a few encoded details about a man who owed Layton a large amount of money in exchange for silence. And Keats knew the connection…. An unexpected connection between Layton and his own life.

Suddenly he had a destination. Someone was going to receive a very unexpected guest.


	5. Chapter 4: Fridges, Falcons & Friends

**Chapter 4**

Robin felt a little removed as he watched the dogs barking and sniffing around the hospital grounds. It felt like he was watching some new police drama, almost as though it wasn't really happening.

_This is where they found the man?"_ someone asked.

"_That's where he was laying,"_ someone else said.

"_Trail goes cold here. Must have stolen a vehicle."_

Robin approached the two officers and risked a question he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Howe's the victim?" He asked.

One of the officers took a sharp intake of breath and shook his head.

He's conscious but shaken," he said, "concussed. And cold. Bastard stole his clothes. Left him in his shirt and underpants/"

Robin shook his head slowly. How could this have even happened?

"Sir, they're getting the security camera footage from the car park," an officer approached him, "do you want to take it?"

Robin hesitated.

"No," he said quietly, I think I might be needed elsewhere." He had a strange feeling that he was more use on the go. His confrontation on the roof with Layton had left him with more insight into the man than most. In fact, as he thought about it a possibility began to dawn on him. The roof… "_The Falcon Building,"_ he said quietly. Instantly the realisation brought a sense of urgency to his bones and his legs took him quickly to a nearby detective. "Excuse me?"

The man turned around.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Has anyone gone to the Falcon Building yet?" Robin asked.

"Not as far as I'm aware sir."

Robin thought fast.

"I need one dog over there right now," he said, "if Layton is desperate he might go back to the last place he was staying so he could be somewhere in that building. We know he'd been using at least one flat there, possibly more."

He felt his head go into a spin-cycle as the detective set off to arrange for the investigation to shift to the Falcon building. He hadn't been back there since that fateful morning and the thought of returning made his stomach churn with fear. He shuddered as he thought about stepping inside that building again. It was the last place he wanted to go but he had no option. It felt as though fate was taking him back there again and there was little he could do to escape it.

~xXx~

Keats pulled up a safe distance away and double checked the address in his notebook. The frustrating part was that the notebook only contained the details of the people Layton had already bribed, not the ones he hadn't managed to get to yet. Evan as the last entry in the book and after that the bribe plan had disintegrated as Layton had taken to running from the law after firing his gun at Alex.

He slipped out of the car and closed the door. He knew that he would have to abandon that car now. It had done its duty, that was all he could ask. He suspected Evan would have something smarter anyway. Anxious to escape the daylight he moved as quickly as possible through the streets until he arrived at a smart and rather fancy-looking home.

"I was right about the car," he commented to himself, eying up a shiny vehicle in the drive. His feet crunched against the shingle in the driveway as he hurried toward the front door.

_Should I knock?_

Through some misgiven sense of politeness he knocked on the door, then promptly picked up a heavy rock from the rockery and smashed the frosted glass with ease before reaching in to turn the handle and open the door. He strode inside as though he had all the right in the world to be there and followed the sounds of screaming to the kitchen where a man and a beard were scrambling out of a chair together.

"Evan White, I presume," Keats hissed.

"Layton," Evan's words were breathy and shaken.

Keats felt his mouth twisting into a sneery smile.

"Half right," he said.

"I don't have any money," Evan said quickly, "they've frozen all my assets. I can't give you a thing."

"Well that's a shame," Keats paced up and down, "I'd been really looking forward to getting my hands on your fat wallet." He glared at Evan. "I've heard a lot about you."

Evan's expression was trn between fear and confusion.

"_What?"_ he whispered. What the hell was Layton talking about? It didn't make sense.

"Getting between the sheets with some posh woman whose husband just happened to have suicidal tendencies," Keats laughed at the sight of the man cowering as he slumped to the floor. "Don't worry, Mister White, I'm sure I'll find plenty to keep me going here."

The television on the kitchen counter played away as Keats took a long, sharp knife from the block beside it. _Never hurts to have some insurance,_ he thought. He made sure Evan saw which one he'd selected and caught sight of the sharp blade flashing in the light before he walked to the fridge and opened the door. Layton's bony frame was struggling a little by now and Keats was at the mercy of a deep, gnawing hunger that twisted his guts. He'd had enough of listening to his stomach groaning on the car ride over to Evan's and he grabbed the first thing he could find, slices of meat, all wrapped in clingfilm. Evan watched in complete shock and confusion as he wolfed them down, almost orgasmically, followed by two tomatoes and a big chunk of cheese. It wasn't exactly a slap-up lunch but it was food and it would do for now. He spotted the bread bin and helped himself to some bread before some faint words from the telly struck his ears.

"…_breaking news this lunch time, Arthur Layton has escaped from his hospital room and is currently on the run."_

With eyes like fire he turned to Evan.

"Turn that up," he hissed. When Evan hesitated he took a step closer, brandishing both the knife and a slice of bread in his direction. _"Turn that up!"_

Evan immediately scrambled to his feet and grabbed the remote control from the table to switch the volume up. It was a headline that came ten minutes too late for Evan. There was no escape from this. He felt the end was looming, both for him and his beloved facial hair.

~xXx~

"He's been here already."

The sight of the panel resting against the wall beside the door was all Robin needed to see. He didn't even need the dogs to confirm it. As he stepped slowly through the doorway a terrible shudder spread through his body. It felt like chilled fingers down his spine. He felt paper crunching beneath his feet and looked down to find he was standing on one of the photographs that had fallen from the wall, one of the many pictures of Simon and himself that Keats had taken as his stalking went into hypermode.

He could hear officers following on behind but somehow his mind tuned them out. He could hardly even bring himself to notice what was going on around him. All he could see in his mind's eye were himself and Alex, stepping through that same doorway just a few weeks earlier.

"Jesus," he whispered. Why did everything seem to lead back there at some point? Was he doomed forever to spend random moments of his life at the Falcon Building? He shook his head slightly as the ammonia stench started to get to him and soon the sound of a barking dog shook him from his deep thoughts.

"Yeas, he's been back," another officer commented.

Robin looked around as one of the dogs, with his nose to the ground, led his trainer through from one room to another.

"Not here now though," he whispered. He waited while the officers did their duty, watching and hoping that some kind of revelation would spill forth but of course none came. He watched as a detective came through the doorway, looking around and gagging a little at the smell. He looked familiar but Robin couldn't quite place him. However, he seemed to know Robin and made a beeline for him.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Detective Inspector March," he introduced himself, "I believe me met briefly at the unsuccessful raid on Nailer's property some months ago."

_Oh boy._ Just as Robin thought his day could get no worse, the worst day of his life came back to haunt him. The day of the crash. He tried not to flinch and shook the man's hand instead.

"Yes," he said a little awkwardly, "that's right."

"I've been dealing with the Layton case," he told Robin, "in connection with Nailer's final arrest."

Robin nodded.

"You might want to check the rest of this building," he said, "we believe that he was spending time in a few empty flats here so as not to spend too long on one place."

"I'm sure your excellent dog handlers will take care of that in good time," said March. He looked at Robin a little curiously, like a fan meeting their favourite celebrity with a list of questions. "You… you knew DI Alex Drake, didn't you?"

"_Knew?"_ Robin frowned, "She's not dead."

"Good as."

Robin scowled. This was a conversation guaranteed not to please him.

"She's comatose," he said, "she already woke up once. She might do it again."

"But it was the two of you who followed Layton, yes?"

Robin sighed.

"Yes. We did."

"Is it true he made that beard model cry?"

Robin took in a deep breath and tried the counting to ten technique, but it did little to quell his anger.

"I'm not here to talk about Evan White," he said, "I'm here to trace Arthur Layton." He turned around to see what else was happening around him and watched as one of his constables took the dog from the flat to see if Layton's trail could be found elsewhere and spotted another copper dusting for finger prints. He gave a very deep sigh. There was someone he really wanted to be by his side right then. There was someone who would be invaluable in helping this investigation, he was sure of it, but he didn't know if she would even want to. However, it was worth a try.

With another sigh he pulled out his phone and called up one of his most often used contacts. Funny how so quickly things can change and someone you didn't know could become such an important part of your life.

"_Hello?"_

"Kim?" Just for hearing her voice Robin felt a little better.

"_What's up, Rob? You sound fraught."_

Robin chewed on his lip.

"Putting it mildly," he said. "Kim, are you at work today?"

"_No, why? You need an emergency tattoo?"_

"I've got an emergency alright but there's no ink involved," Robin told her.

Kim hesitated.

"_What's happened?"_

Robin drew in his breath.

"Layton's escaped," his voice shook as he spoke.

There was a strange, short silence on the line.

"_What?"_ Kim whispered.

"He attacked a doctor and the guards on his door," Robin told her, trying not to let her hear how scared he was. "They needed the dogs, and apparently as the last person to see him before his accident they needed me to provide my _not very valuable_ insights."

There was another pause.

"_Where are you now?"_

Robin sank to the floor over one of the fallen photographs. He stared at it as he spoke.

"I'm at the Falcon Building," he hated even saying those words. It was the last place he wanted to be, "Layton's been back to Keats's flat. They're checking the rest of the building now."

One last pause. Then,

"_Don't move. I'll be there in ten."_

The phone went dead with a rather abrupt click, long before Robin could have any shot at protesting and telling Kim, falsely, that she should stay where she was. He'd hoped she would say that.

"Thank you," he whispered to no one in particular. Facing Layton was more than he felt ready to deal with alone. Kim understood. Kim had been there through the whole of the terrible rooftop moment. If anyone could help him then she would be the one. So it was another week or so before she officially became a detective again – at least she would be able to get some practice in first.

At least, that was as good an excuse as Robin needed.


	6. Chapter 5: Trimmers, Trousers & Torture

_**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed and put this story on alert – I really appreciate it! **_

**Chapter 5**

Keats's eyes darted nervously from the TV to Evan and back again as he watched the news report. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweating so much that he could practically have drowned in his own perspiration. He felt his limbs shaking a little as the newsreader continued.

"_Earlier this morning Arthur Layton, who had been on the run for two and a half years following the shooting of Detective Inspector Alex Drake, attacked two guards and a doctor before fleeing the building and attacking another man, then stealing his clothes and his car."_

Keats swallowed as a picture of Layton in all his grungy glory appeared on the screen. It made Keats retch and shudder to know that's what people saw when they looked at him. A great disguise it might have been but living in that skin was a dreadful feeling.

"_The public are warned that Mister Layton should be considered highly dangerous and are told not to approach him. If you believe you have seen Mister Layton please contact the police immediately. Layton was caught after a car chase involving his former victim DI Drake and police Chief Inspector Robin Shoebury-Thomas."_

"_Robin,"_ Keats hissed, almost cursing at the thought of him. He felt almost as much venom toward Robin as he did to Simon. Robin was the lone person who had completely resisted temptation. He hadn't taken the bait when Keats approached him in 1995 with promises of home. It made Keats's blood boil to think of him.

"_Just before the chase, a former detective had been shot by Mister Layton. It is thought both she and Chief Inspector Shoebury-Thomas are currently trying to trace the escaped man."_

On the screen, two pictures appeared side by side. One was Robin, a little outdated, with his old insignia and a slightly shorter fringe. The other was a woman with long dark hair. The peripheries were different but her features were so familiar that they sent a shower of butterflies flying through Keats's stomach. Involuntarily he gasped and took a step backwards. He knew that face. He knew her well.

"_Kimberly."_

_Not Kimberly, Kim,_ his mind told him, but he blocked that voice out.

He stared at the image on the screen. In reality it was only up there for a few seconds but his mind slowed down time to the point at which he felt like he was staring at her forever. He felt his heart beating so fast that he wasn't sure Layton's clapped out body could handle it.

_Kim._ That's where things had started going so badly wrong. Something happened…

Keats used sex. He always had. Sex was a way to get what he wanted. He also had a great deal of carnal desires and needed to quench them any way he was able to. He supposed that by its very definition his job meant that he was working his way through the 7 deadly sins. Lust was his personal favourite. But still, sex was just sex. He didn't much care who with – whomever he could get his hands on. It was also a tool to manipulate other people to doing his dirty work. Either the promise o the threat of sex, the gift of blackmail – the list went on. There were so many things that sex was useful for in the eyes of Keats but that's all it ever was. Sex. Never making love, never intimacy, just sex.

Something went very badly wrong when he met Kim. Horribly, terribly, _crushingly _wrong.

His mouth moved a little as the image of Kim burned itself into his retinas and his memory. _No,_ he told himself firmly, _it doesn't do to think this way. She was a pawn, that was all. Just a pawn._

"Sex is a means to an end!" he announced quite out of the blue and noted a look of panic and alarm on Evan's face. "Oh, relax, Beardy," he sighed. "I wasn't talking about you." He looked scathingly at him, "I don't fancy the whisker burn," he said, flinching a little at the thought.

He tried to push all thoughts of Kim from his mind, That wasn't going to help matters, he was fairly sure of that. It was time to concentrate. If Kim and Robin, amongst others, were on his trail then he was going to need to move on quickly. Evan was only ever going to be a stop-gap. Refuelling, that's what he was doing. He held the knife an inch from Evan's face.

"I need clothes," he spat, "show me where you keep your flashy gear."

He grasped Evan's arm and hauled him to his feet, then held the knife to his neck as Evan led him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"Sit over there," Keats gave him a heavy shove toward the far side of the room where his back made heavy contact with the radiator and gave a hefty clang. He opened the doors to a rather large closet and pulled out a crisp, smart shirt.

"Yes, this is more like it," he said, quickly shedding the horrific jumper he'd 'borrowed'. He heard Evan give a pained cry at the sight of Layton's shrivelled body and ignored him. The feeling of the cool material over his arms helped to ground him and bring him back to reality. As he fastened the buttons he recalled his own smart attire back in the nineties. Clean, pressed and starched. Evan's wasn't a bad second best.

To Evan's further horror Keats shed the baggy trousers he'd been barely keeping up, completely oblivious to the fact that he was still _commando_ and gave the poor bearded one a long flash of Layton's miniature tackle and hairy bottom. He pulled a pair of trousers from Evan's closet and slipped them on.

"Oh, these are _much _better!" he said with relief and some approval. With a belt they were a near perfect fit. However, as he stared on the mirror it was still Arthur Layton staring back. The sunken features, the scraggly hair. He turned to Evan. "I need a razor."

"Do I _look_ like a man who owns a razor?" he cried in horror.

"Anything. Clippers? Scissors? Beard trimmer?" Keats barked, the knife flashing in the light.

"Beard trimmer's on my bedside table!" Evan cried desperately.

"Ahh, perfect," Keats told him, walking across to find it. A book lying beside it caught his eye and he lifted it, then turned to Evan and raised one eyebrow in amusement. _"Lady Chatterley's Lover?"_

Evan gulped.

"I'm surprised you can even read," he said a little bravely but soon regretted it as he found the book flying towards him through the air where it struck him in the nose. _"Ow!"_

Keats grabbed the beard trimmer and switched it on. It whirred and buzzed. He wasn't sure it was up to the job but it was all he had, so he took hold of a lump of the horrid, straggly hair on his head and pulled it taught, then ran the beard trimmer into it. As he felt the hair go slack in his hand and dropped it to the floor a smile spread across his face.

"Perfect," he whispered.

Handful by handful he grasped the hair and each lump befell the same fate. Within a few minutes the straggly hair was laying on a heap in the floor and the hair on his head was… well, approximately the same length as Evans beard.

"You'll blunt my beard trimmer!" Evan wept.

"I'll blunt your tackle in a minute," Keats threatened, holding up the knife again and making sure Evan knew he wasn;' bluffing, "back on your feet." Evan did as he was told and soon found Keats grasping his arm. "Back downstairs. I need your car keys."

"Oh, not my _car!"_ Evan wept, "_please,_ that's all I have left!"

Keats hassled Evan down the stairs, all the time holding his knife just to the side of Evans field of vision.

"Now, where are the keys?"

"No…"

"Where are the _keys?"_ As they reached the bottom of the stairs Keats grasped Evan firmly by his shirt and pushed him up against the wall. He held the knife against the side of his face and pressed it against his flesh, not quite hard enough to cut him but a moment away from doing so. "It's _give me the car keys _or _get an impromptu shave."_

"By the door," Evan gasped, "the bowl by the door."

Dragging Evan by the beard, Keats made his way to the wicker bowl and lifted out a set of keys. There was a shiny silver keyring attached, moulded in the shape of Evan's beard.

"God, you're a vain idiot, aren'tbyou?" Keats mocked him.

"Please, you've got my car, you're wearing my clothes, you've eaten my food," Evan could feel tears starting to roll down his cheeks now but he was too terrified to care, "just go! There's nothing else here for you."

"Not enjoying my company?" asked Keats as he dragged him back through to the kitchen and pushed him to the ground. "I'm not quiet finished yet." He knelt beside him and reached into Evan's pocket which caused the bearded one to scream and retreat. "Oh shut that flapping trap," Keats was growing tired of Evan, "I'm not fondling you, I'm only stealing your wallet!" He pulled a leather-bound wallet from his pocket and opened it up. "Even_ I_ have standards, you know." He glared into the almost empty item. "Thirty pounds?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I told you, I've got nothing!" Evan cried, "I've been suspended, my assets are frozen, all I have is in that wallet!"

Keats sighed and tucked it into his own pocket.

"Well it's a start," he said. He felt his stomach rumbling again as the snack had only taken the edge off his appetite and decided to take a packed lunch with him for the next leg of his journey. He grabbed some more bread a few other items from the fridge and cupboards before glancing around and spotting Evan's monogrammed briefcase. "Nice lunchbox," he commented, "beats a Transformers one any day!" he flipped open the catch and dumped out what looked like a lot of important paperwork and also a couple of lollipops. "Oh, Evan," Keats picked them up and turned to him with a mocking smile, "how old are you? Or are these for hanging around outside of schools and luring small children into your car?"

"Just go," Evan begged.

"Now now, that's not a nice way to talk to your guest," Keats admonished, "let me just catch up on the latest news headlines first," he said turning to the TV set which was still showing an image of Layton.

"…_Police would like to remind the public not to approach this man,"_ the newsreader told him.

"Unfortunately some people have no choice," Keats laughed as he turned to Evan, _"do_ they?"

Before Evan could start blubbering again or to beg him to leave, a very fast and hard knocking was heard at the door. Keats stood bolt-upright, looking like a wild animal about to be stalked by something creeping through the undergrowth.

"_Evan?"_ a young female voice called his name, "_Evan, it's me. Please open the door!"_

Keats turned to Evan, his eyes wide.

"You stay silent," he hissed.

"That's my goddaughter, Molly," Evan wept, "please, she'll know there's something wrong…"

"I said stay _silent!"_ cried Keats.

"_Evan, I know you're in, your car's outside!" _Molly's voice called through the letterbox.

"Stay silent. Wait for her to leave," Keats spat.

"_Evan, it's important, please! I'm worried about you! I've been watching the news, they said –"_

Her voice went silent and Keats held his breath. It seemed as though she had given up, but to his dismay the sound of a key in the lock followed the moments of quiet.

"She's got a fucking _key?"_

"She used to live with me," Evan wept quietly.

Keats grasped Evan and pulled him across the other side of the room as Molly let herself in, so that they could remain out of sight as long as possible.

"_Evan, they've let Layton escape,"_ Molly's worried voice called out, _"Come on, Evan, you've got to be home, your telly's on!"_

As the young girl appeared in the doorway she found one arm around her neck and a hand holding a knife against her skin. She gave a shriek but quickly dropped her voice as Keats warned,

"You make _one noise_ and this slices right through your throat." He turned to Evan. "And you do or say a thing and your goddaughter finds herself on a fast-track to the grave.

"OK, OK, don't hurt her," Evan begged, "please, just don't hurt her."

Keats glared at him.

"How did you end up with _another_ goddaughter living with you anyway?" he asked, "Make a habit of this, do you? Taking in little girls when their parents bite the bullet?" he laughed at his own joke but found to his horror that Molly wasn't going to take his presence lightly as she gave his shin a hard kick. "Oh, you _silly _little girl," Keats spat. He withdrew his arm, drew it back quickly and slammed it into the front of her head, knocking her backwards where her head struck the doorpost with force and she slid, unconscious to the floor.

"Molly!" Evan cried.

"Oh, shut your beard, she'd just taking a nap," spat Keats as he took the girl's scarf from around her shoulders and began tying it around her face to act a gag. As he worked, the likeness between Molly and her mother struck him deeply. It was uncanny. It gave him a strange shudder down his spine. He didn't dwell on it for very long though. He knew it was even more important to get away now. "Trousers," he barked at Evan"

Evan's face was a beautiful picture of alarm. He wasn't sure if this was some kind of horrible word association game or if Keats had just given him an unusual new nickname.

"I'm sorry?

"Take your trousers off!"

Evan's mouth dropped open as terror rose again.

"No," he said as firmly as he dared.

"Take them off, beardy," Keas was tiring of him by now, "Come on, look lively!"

"They're my trousers and I am exercising my right to wear them!"

"Right," Keats approached with the knife, "I'll have to cut them off then."

"What?" screamed Evan as Keats began to grab at the material. He scrambled to his feet. "Alright! Alright! I'll take them off!" he cried, hastily unfastening them and letting them drop to the floor.

Keats began to chuckle.

"Oh _Evan,"_ he sneered, "Y-fronts? No wonder you're single!"

Evan blushed and tried to cover up his underwear but his attention was caught by the terrifying sight of Keats holding his knife to his trousers and ripping away long sections of material.

"What the hell are you doing?" he cried, "they have a matching jacket!"

Keats point-blank ignored him and concentrated instead on grabbing his hands firmly and pulling them behind his back where he tied them together with a length of trouser materials.

"Oh, I can't say this has been a pleasure," he said as he began tying his legs as well, "but nevertheless I must leave. What a shame I couldn't stay longer. Still, I am certain we'll be seeing more of each other." He jammed a bread roll in Evan's mouth then began tying up Molly's arms and legs. "And get some more fashionable underpants, MisterWhite." As though it was all part of a day's work he paced through the hallway, briefcase in hand and out to the car where he opened the boot and returned a moment later for the girl. Molly was still out cold. She was a little slip of a girl, slim and petite and it took little strength to lift her and carry her out to the car.

As he loaded up his cargo and started to engine he gave a broad smile.

"Without your assets you still managed to provide me with a valuable item, Mister White," he said before he drove away, leaving a trouserless Evan behind. He knew he had to keep out of sight and there was one place that came to mind, one place where, he was fairly sure, there was nobody home.

"You can't be tracking me _and_ settling in for an afternoon at home, Robin," he whispered as he left Evan's driveway and began the next leg of his journey.


	7. Chapter 6: Cookers, Cuttings & Curtains

**Chapter 6**

Walking through the doorway was the single hardest thing Kim had ever had to do. It wasn't exactly on her intended schedule for the day. She'd managed to avoid the place so far. She'd chickened out of entering when she'd been there with Alex and Robin, then when they'd returned the following morning they hadn't even needed to get that far because Layton made his presence known on another floor. Facing her terror was something Kim would only have done for a select few people. Luckily for Robin, he was one of them.

He somehow looked like Little Boy Lost, standing and staring out of the window while cops in uniform dusted for prints and examined the flat for evidence. She took a deep breath as she walked up towards him and laid a hand on his shoulder. He jumped a little but as he turned around and saw her his sense of relief was immense.

"Hey," she said quietly, "It's just me."

"Sorry," Robin felt embarrassed about his startling. He looked at her seriously. "I'm so glad you're here," he whispered.

"Come here," Whispered Kim as she wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug that took the edge off his nerves

"Hey-ho, Robin's gone straight," one of his colleagues from the canine division called out.

Robin looked at him with a slightly mocking smile and indicated first Kim and then himself in turn.

"Married lesbian, sad, lonely gay idiot," he said, "not going to happen."

"Who's that?" Kim asked as Robin's friend laughed.

"Oh, that's Jason, don't mind him, promising career in _stand-up comedy,"_ he raised his voice towards the end for Jason to hear and got another laugh.

"It's funny," Kim said with a smile, "I haven't seen you around your work friends before."

"They're not really friends," Robin said, a little sadly, "colleagues, really."

"You don't need to keep making yourself an island, Rob," Kim told him.

Robin hesitated. He did do that, didn't he? He sighed.

"I called _you,_ didn't I?" he said quietly.

Kim gave him a smile but it was tinged with sadness and worry.

"What _happened,_ Robin?" she asked with a sigh, "how the hell did they let Layton loose?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Robin said quietly, "he stabbed a doctor in the neck with a needle. Then he battered the guards with his drip stand. How he had the strength, no one can explain. I mean, you saw him on the roof, Kim – he was weak as it was… ravaged by years of drugs and god knows what else. He's been in a car crash and in a bloody coma! It doesn't make any sense!"

"Has he definitely been back here?" asked Kim.

Robin nodded.

"The dogs picked up his scent," he said, "He's only been in this flat. They checked the whole building, looks like he just stopped off here."

A fast trail of footsteps came towards them and Robin looked around to find DI March standing there.

"They pulled some prints in the bathroom, but it's not like we don't know it was him," he said.

Robin sighed.

"Always good to be sure," he said.

March glanced at Kim.

"You are…?"

"DI March, this is Kim… _Kim?"_ Robin asked, not sure what name he was supposed to introduce her as.

"Kim," Kim agreed. While the rest of the people in her life knew her as Alex it didn't seem right for Robin or anyone connected with police work to call her anything but Kim. She was just going to have to juggle two names, she supposed.

"Yes, but, who _is _she?" March frowned.

"Kim is an excellent ex-detective and soon to be detective again," said Robin, "she was on the roof with me and Alex. She's due to actually rejoin the force next week."

March hesitated.

"_Ri-i-i-i-ight,"_ he said, "but she's not officially a part of the station right now?"

"Well, no."

March shook his head a little doubtfully.

"She can't come on board while she's not actually working with us."

"Kim did some bloody fantastic work talking to Layton on that roof," Robin told him, "she'd going to be invaluable in helping us here."

"I'm not sure the insurance is going to cover this," March said doubtfully.

"Oh, _fuck_ the insurance!" cried Robin, "if you want to see this guy back where he belongs then you _need_ Kim on this case."

DI March stared at Robin. He seemed to gulp. For a terrible moment Robin wondered if he'd overstepped the mark, but March took a step backwards and nodded slowly.

"It's your call, Chief Inspector," he said, "as far as I'm concerned, she's not here."

Robin closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," he whispered.

March nodded a goodbye to Kim, then left the flat as Kim turned to Robin with surprise and amazement in her eyes.

"My my, Robin, where's this come from?" she said, a smile of amusement on her face, "you're not the quiet, nervous Robin I met not so long ago."

Robin blushed. He wasn't sure where it had come from either if he was honest.

"Shame I never had guts like this in my lion taming phase," he said.

A moment of silence descended. They watched as the other officers finished their investigations and left the flat one by one, before Kim finally asked.

"So, what now?"

Robin closed his eyes for a second. He tried to get into Layton's mind-set. Where would he go if he'd already left the Falcon building? Where else was he likely to go? A sudden, terrible thought occurred to him and he opened his eyes.

"Oh my god," he whispered.

Immediately Kim felt alarm settling through her body.

"What?" she whispered.

Robin looked at her, his eyes open wide.

"No one's warned Evan," he whispered.

Kim hesitated.

"Evan?"

"Layton's on the loose and in desperate need of money," said Robin, "where did he turn the last time he needed cash?"

Kim bit her lip. Even she was doing it now.

"His last blackmail case," she whispered.

Robin nodded.

"Come on," he hissed, "looks like our next stop is Beard Country."

As he led Kim out of the building and they raced to his car, Robin felt a terrible sense of dread building inside of him. He had a horrible feeling that Layton had already paid a visit to the bearded one. He didn't know why, he just knew it inside. What condition they would find Evan, or his beard, when they arrived was anyone's guess.

~xXx~

It was perfect, Keats thought to himself as he pulled up outside of the flat. News announced Robin was out looking for Layton, that automatically gave Keats a place a go, for a short time at least.

As he climbed the stairs he recalled the last time he'd paid a visit to Robin's, with an inebriated Simon who was soon be a deeply unconscious Simon. He smiled and gloated as he thought about that memory. It was one of his moments of glory. His one regret was not doing for real what he had set up the room to portray. Of course he'd have done it without batting an eyelid _now_. It seemed that each and every time he crossed the fine line between life and death he became a little more callous and lost even more humanity. It was highly debatable whether or not he had any left at all.

He was gathering more strength as time went by and he gave no hesitation in slamming his shoulder into Robin's door. It gave way with ease and Keats smirked.

"High ranking officer like you should have a more security conscious door," he commented. Since when had Robin been promoted to Chief Inspector anyway? Keats shook his head and sighed as he closed the door and paced through to the kitchen. He gave a nostalgia sigh. "Ahh, memories," he said happily, "the kitchen where I made Simon some lovely, sleepy bedtime drinks."

Curiosity and hunger led to him opening the fridge door and his eyes lit up immediately. It was a bit like winning the lottery, except in food. Forget his 'packed lunch' – Robin's fridge contained a veritable array of goodies.

Robin's problem was that he just couldn't get used to cooking for one so he had started making double portions and saving one for the next day. A rather nice looking chunk of lasagne in a Tupperware container tempted Keats. He quickly popped it onto a plate and loaded it into the microwave, then took another look in the fridge. There was pizza in there too. The sight of it made Keats practically salivate._ Nothing wrong with a two course meal,_ he thoughts, so he fetched the slices and put them in the oven.

"Now, what fucking temperature does this thing go on?" he mumbled to himself, "Oh, I'll just stick it on gas mark six. Everything goes on gas mark six, doesn't it?" he wasn't much of an oven user, if truth be told. Microwaves were a much easier option. Quicker. Left more time for torturing people.

He wandered into the lounge and looked around. On the sideboard were photographs of Robin and Simon, plus a few random people. He scowled as he spotted one of Robin with Kim at some kind of Anti-Beard presentation awards ceremony, holding their anti-beard trophies for sterling work against shamed beard model Evan White. Neither seemed that enamoured with their awards. To his dismay he realised the photograph had been cut out of a glossy magazine, such as _Hello_ or _OK_ or _Piss Off_ or some other random greeting. There was a small caption underneath that read; _"ABOVE: Anti-Evan duo step out in style, picking up their trophies"_

"My my, Robin, what an interesting life you seem to be leading out of Simon's shadow," he sneered, picking up a random tattoo magazine that Kim lad left from the week before with joking notes left all over it along the lines of _"This is your next tattoo" _on a picture of someone with a large banana tattooed across their back or _"you're going to get one of these" _on a rather horrible looking tattoo of Scrappy Doo. The more he saw, the angrier Keats became. What the hell had happened to that wreck of a man whose suicide had been on the cards just a few months before? He gave a growl of frustration as he realised that there was absolutely no way in hell he would be getting Robin's soul through that route.

"Well, maybe I'll just have to try a more direct approach," he said angrily as the microwave beeped. He set off back to the kitchen, opened the microwave door and inhaled deeply as the beautiful aroma of tomatoes and meat came flooding from within. The scent made his stomach growl in anticipation. Forget Evan's scraps of meat, this was _quality_ fare. "Simon was a very lucky boy," her mumbled, his mouth full, "I'm surprised he wasn't as big as a house with cooking like this."

By the time he'd devoured the lasagne he was beginning to revise the order of his favourite seven deadly sins. Lust was still just about in the lead but gluttony was a close second. He inspected the oven to find the pizza just about done and greedily embarked on a slice, but with Layton's shrunken stomach he couldn't manage anywhere near as much as he'd hoped. Still, never mind – he could take the rest with him when he left.

He felt fairly certain that Robin would be gone for a while yet though. He wouldn't return home until 'Layton' had been found – and if his home was where 'Layton' _was _then Keats was pretty sure he'd be safe for a while longer.

His full stomach and the excitement of torturing Evan were making him feel sleepy. He knew where there was a lovely, comfortable bed though. It wouldn't be the first he'd spent a night there either. Leisurely he walked to the bedroom and drew the curtains.

"Ahh, I have such fond memories of this room," he sighed as he lay on the bed, pulled the duvet over him and snuggled down between the sheets, making sure that he wriggled and writhed to leave as much of his scent across the bed as humanly possible. He closed his eyes and sighed a happy sigh as he drifted off to sleep.

His sleep, however, was far from peaceful. The churning, disturbed thoughts of one Arthur Layton were flowing free without Keats's strong will to stop them. By the end of his nap he didn't feel particularly refreshed but thanks to Layton's memories he had a new location to head to. With dreams of a barge and a bullet plaguing him for hours it seemed like the best place to go. And who was he to argue with fate?


	8. Chapter 7: Nightmare, Naps & No Trousers

**Chapter 7**

"Kim, seriously, you need to stop calling my car the _Beardmobile_ before you end up with the gearstick somewhere the sun doesn't shine." Robin told her as they sped to Evan's house.

Kim tried not to hum the little theme song she had invented for the beardmobile. It was funny, but although the situation was dark and deadly serious she felt safer for being in the thick of it and doing something about it. If she'd watched the news at home and seen Layton was on the loose then she'd have been scared out of her mind. Being on the streets, back in the thick of the action and especially with Robin alongside her made everything seem less daunting somehow.

"Do you really think he's gone to find Evan?" she asked.

Robin took a deep breath.

"I can't explain why, I've just got a gut feeling on this one."

As they pulled up onto the empty driveway Robin wondered if he was wrong after all and that Evan was away from home but the sight of the broken pane of glass on the door caused his stomach to churn in fear.

"Shit, that doesn't look good," said Kim.

"No kidding," Robin stopped the car and released the seatbelt. As the two of them climbed out of the car and gave a slight run toward the door Robin began to feel a little awkward. The last time he'd seen Evan was when he'd put him in his place in the hospital just after the accident. Aside from that, he'd seen him from a distance across the courtroom at his bail hearing and that had been that. He still felt wretched that he had misjudged Evan so much, treated him as a friend for all that time, never knowing about the secrets he was hiding.

He reached carefully through the jagged glass and turned the handle on the inside of the door until it opened slowly. As they ran inside they could hear a muffled moaning sound and followed it to the kitchen.

"Bloody fucking hell!" cried Kim.

It wasn't a pretty sight. A trouserless Evan was something no one wanted to see at the best of times. Coupled with the bread roll shoved crudely in his mouth that he hadn't seemed to manage to either bite through or spit out and his tied wrists and legs it was a truly terrible thing to find.

"Evan," Robin said quickly, all history forgotten as he tried and failed to loosen the knots, "are you OK? It was _him_, wasn't it? Layton?" he looked him in the eye, the bread roll still in his mouth. Evan nodded. "_Shit."_

Robin removed the roll from Evan's mouth and watched him splutter and gag a little as he tried to regain a little composure.

"Molly," he gasped.

Kim and Robin glanced at each other.

"What about her?" Robin whispered, fear starting to rise inside of him.

"He took Molly," Evan began to weep.

Robin's heart started thumping so hard that he wondered if he was about to have another 'cardiac event'.

"Layton took Molly?" he whispered. Evan's slow, devastated nod was the confirmation he really did not wish to receive. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a moment. He needed to focus. This wasn't the time to go to pieces. "Right. Kim, find something to cut these binds. I'll radio in."

"Right," Kim reached for a sharp knife from the knife block and Evan flinched.

"He took one of those," he shuddered.

Kim looked at him.

"A knife?" she whispered.

Evan nodded slowly.

"I think he took it with him," he whispered.

Kim knelt down and started to rip away at the material with the sharp blade. The sight of it made Evan flash back horribly to the sight of 'Layton' ripping through the material in the first place. Oh _why_ had he let Layton take Molly? Why didn't he try harder to stop him?

"Need assistance on Evelyn Way," Robin said quickly intro his radio, "number sixteen. House of a Mister Evan White." There was a crackle of static and some vomiting noises. "Yes, _that_ Evan White." He paused and glanced at Kim as she freed his hands, "Layton's been here. Tied him up and kidnapped a young girl," his voice shook a little, "Molly Drake." He paused, "Yes. Alex Drake's daughter."

He closed his eyes as the voice on the radio confirmed that assistance was on its way, then he knelt beside the newly-freed Evan as he rubbed his sore wrists.

"I couldn't do anything," he trembled as he spoke. "He smashed the door, came storming in. Took a knife." He shook his head, feeling humiliated and shamed. "He ate my food, stole my clothes and took my car. Molly was worried about me, she saw Layton on the news and came by. She must have worried more when she saw the broken glass, let herself in… he knocked her out cold, tied her up and took her away."

"Shit," Robin knew that wasn't the most comforting thing for the godfather of a missing girl to hear but couldn't stop the word escaping.

Evan looked at him with terror in his eyes.

"Please Robin, you've got to find her."

"We will, we will," Robin said quickly.

"Mister White, I know this is a very traumatic time but if there anything else that happened we might need to know about?" asked Kim, "anything about Layton. Something he said? Any clue to where he might be taking Molly?"

Evan shook his head slowly.

"It's all a blur," he said quietly, "it happened so fast, but…" he trailed off and hung his head. It seemed too silly.

"Go on," Robin prompted.

Evan glanced at him. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to say it or not.

"It sounds ridiculous," he said quietly.

"Believe me, Evan, after some of the stuff we've seen very little sounds ridiculous," Robin said quietly.

Evan hesitated. He swallowed.

"Layton," he said quietly.

"What about him?" Robin asked.

Evan took a deep breath. 

"He was… different," he whispered.

Robin bit his lip.

"In what way… _different?"_ he asked.

Evan closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about this, let alone talk about it.

"Robin, I've met Layton on several occasions. I've spoken to him on the phone. I've had the misfortune to cross his path many times and on every single one of those occasions he's been a jabbering wreck. Terrified. Full of nerves. Quivering, twitching, trying to make me look away." He looked Robin in the eye. "This time, he couldn't have been more different," he said.

Robin swallowed.

"How?"

"He was a showman," Evan said quietly, "everything he did, he did with grandeur. He wanted all eyes upon him. There was none of the nervousness. No shaking. No fear and paranoia. He was… self-assured. He had a cutting manner that he's never had before. It was like…" he looked at Robin seriously, "it was like there was someone else in there."

"Someone else?" Robin felt a terrible shudder spread through his body.

"He was looking at me with different eyes," Evan whispered. His face began to crumble and huge, choking sobs wracked his chest, rendering him unable to expand further on what he'd said. Kim and Robin looked at each other with anxiety in their eyes. Evan's words might have seemed strange but they'd caught them both by surprise and made them both stop to think.

It could have been a throw-away comment with multiple explanations for Layton's different behaviour but they'd both seen enough to think more deeply about it.

"Remember what happened when Alex woke up," Robin whispered.

Kim swallowed. She didn't even want to think about what Robin was implying.

"Let's just find the guy," she whispered, "then we can make any judgements about who or what might be inside his head, OK?"

Robin nodded slowly but he couldn't chase that fear away Evan had got him worried in a completely unexpected way, and suddenly it seemed that the hunt for Layton was becoming more important with every passing moment.

~xXx~

It was getting dingy when Keats awoke. He stretched and yawned. Robin's bed had been even more comfortable than he remembered.

"Sleeping in here without Simon's hairy arse in my way was a much more pleasant experience," he said as he slowly climbed from the bed. He opened the curtains and peered outside. Evan's car was still in the car park, with its precious cargo in the boot. He wasn't quite sure what his plans were involving Molly yet but he was certain she would come in handy for blackmail somewhere along the line.

It was time to make a move. He was sure of that. Dreams and nightmares born of Layton's memories had been plaguing him all the time he'd been sleeping and he had a whole map built into his mind to take him right to a barge, the barge where Layton had fired a bullet into Alex's head. Layton's memories were like having a drug-addled satnav in his head. It was a weird experience indeed.

Quickly he made his last preparations to move on. He gathered his pizza and a bottle of water from the fridge, took a photograph from Robin's lounge and finally paid a visit to the bathroom where he left a nasty surprise in the toilet for Robin to find when he arrived home eventually.

"Well, Robin," he said to himself as he prepared to leave the flat, "I give the accommodation four stars. Catering, excellent. Bed, comfy and cosy. But you need to do something about the girly soap in the bathroom."

With that he hurried to the car and slipped inside before anyone could see him, setting off on the next phase of his journey. It was time to head for the river.


	9. Chapter 8: Barges, Break Ins & Bathrooms

_**A/N: A word of warning, from the next chapter of Dead Man Walking on Sunday night I will be raising the rating to an M for increasingly adult concepts and disturbing behaviour on the part of a crazed Keats/Layton hybrid!**_

**Chapter 8**

It was dark by the time Keats pulled up close to the barge. _Good,_ he thought. _Perfect._ No one would see. In fact, there was no one _around_ to see anyway.

He shivered and twitched as he sat in the car, the sound of Molly writhing and wriggling in the boot. His stomach was still full of lasagne and pizza, but there was another hunger that was gnawing away at him now. He'd been fighting it back for a long time but the barrage of memories from Layton that came forth in his dream had brought back with them the yearning for the kind of substances that Keats had never used in his life. He might have been many things but he'd certainly never been tempted to dabble in drugs. The only drugs he used were ones he slipped into the drinks of other people.

He found himself scratching at his arms. Why was he doing that? They weren't even itching.

"Oh_ stop_ that," he told himself angrily.

He got out of the car and slowly made his way down the tunnel to the barge. To say it was derelict was an understatement. The floor felt as though it could give way at any second. He couldn't see the inside of the boat all that well. The only light around was prom the headlights of the car. It wasn't exactly Buckingham Palace but it would do, certainly for what Keats had in mind.

He returned to the car and, first of all, collected up the non-human items he'd collected. His coat from his old flat, Evan's briefcase full of snacks, a bottle of water, Robin's pizza and a couple of photographs; the one of his parents and the one he'd stolen from Robin's flat. He hated to even admit that he'd taken it or why. He couldn't even allow _himself_ to acknowledge that it was the image of the female half of the _'Anti-Evan Duo'_ that he couldn't bear to leave behind. Seeing Kim older, so different with her long dark hair and more tattoos than he'd ever seen before was strange and intriguing. Her different look took nothing away from the fact that this was still Kim; the woman so deeply ingrained in his thoughts that staring at her picture set off a hunger of a different kind inside of him.

Oh _God,_ and it was driving him crazy. It seemed as though being in a living body had made every desire so much stronger. Thoughts of Kim on all those nights flooded back to him. He tried to shake those thoughts away. They were nothing but a distraction, a bloody distraction from the plan. He knew he had a lot of work to do and he needed to stop thinking about her, at least for the time being. She would feature later on. He'd make sure of that. Until then, he had to try to keep his mind away from that subject.

For the first time he started to rummage through Evan's belongings in the car. There were a few items in the glove compartment; a map, some keys to god knows what, a packet of Chewits and a few of his beard modelling photographs that he kept around to sign for fans. Not that he had very many of those these days. Which was probably why there so many photographs. There was, however, a small torch which Keats felt was a real gift indeed.

He took a bundle of items onto the barge for safe keeping then returned to the car one last time for Molly. He knew he wasn't in for an easy ride when the first thing she did was slam her legs into his chest the second he opened the boot. He tumbled backwards, the wind knocked from him for a moment as he watched her wriggle until she felt from the boot and landed with a hard thump on the ground.

"Well _what _a silly little girl you are," he hissed, "full of beans, full of fight but not a grain of sense in your head." He paused to scoop her up from the ground. "Just like another female Drake I know." He struggled to hold her as Molly let her body go limp and turned herself in a dead-weight. Layton's body was still not the strongest and he had a great deal of trouble lugging her down to the barge. Finally he threw her to the ground, turned on the torch and began to look around. There was a length of rope to one side so he grasped it and used it to tie her up a little more firmly, then he removed her gag. The ear-splitting shriek reminded him that he'd forgotten to give her a _no-shouting_ warning.

"Oh _shush_, you stupid brat," he said, covering her mouth with his hand, "there's no one around, no one's going to hear you, all you'll do is lose your voice. _Yeargh!"_ her teeth sank into his hand and he withdrew it quickly. He found Molly staring at him with absolute fury in her eyes. He hadn't expected that. He'd expected fear and terror, not anger. It unnerved him a little.

"They're going to find me here," she said, "they'll all be looking for you and they'll find me. And when they do I'll stand up in court and I'll tell them what you've done so they'll have to throw you in jail forever."

"Forever is a long time, girl," Keats spat. He unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and pressed it to her lips. "Here. _Drink."_

Molly hesitated for a moment. The last thing she wanted to do was follow Layton's instructions but her mouth was dry and her thirst was raging so she drank thirstily for a few seconds until he withdrew the bottle, refastened the cap and put her gag back on, amid much thrashing and struggling.

"Now," he said as he finished tying the gag and pushed her over, "You _– stay."_ He managed to tie her to a fixing at the side of the barge and got to his feet. He stared at the girl, a little Alex in the making. "Sure you won't be lonely for long, he sneered. "There are a few _old friends_ I'm looking forward to catching up with. I'll be inviting them back here for a fun-filled evening of entertainment." He turned and began to walk away. "Try not to struggle too much. No idea how old this thing is. Wouldn't want you to knock a hole in the bottom and sink to the bottom of the river like a little teenage anchor."

One lingering laugh was all he left behind as he exited the barge and retreated to the car. He suspected it was time to find himself a new vehicle. Evan's would be all over the news by now. Hmm, he fancied something sportier this time. Might as well have some fun. After all, how many times do you get the chance of an extra life – aside from when you're playing _Sonic 2,_ that is.

~xXx~

"Shit, I'm fucking exhausted," Robin rubbed his head as he and Kim trailed back to the station. They had been on the trail of Layton for hours now. How had the trail gone cold after Evan? Pleas to the public for information had only resulted in people 'tweeting' BBC News to tell them it '_served the weird bearded one right'_. Even news of Molly's kidnap hadn't helped. That just made people send in messages about her being better off with Layton because _'He might be a madman but at least he's never been a beard model.'_

They were met by DI March who was looking stressed.

"We're bringing in a second shift of officers for searching," he said, "and there's a fresh search of woodland starting at dawn."

Robin felt his stomach clench like a fist.

"Searching woodland?" he repeated, "Why?" he already knew the answer but didn't want to acknowledge it.

"For the girl's body," March told him.

Kim looked at Robin's stricken face. She didn't really know Molly, she'd met her once or twice in passing, but knew Robin had come to know her better than that. She tried to give Robin a break from having to do the talking.

"Where are they planning to search?" she asked.

There's an area of woodland near Mister White's home," March told them, "it backs onto a golf course. We'll be reconvening at six." He looked at them seriously. "We want you out there, so for now go home and get some rest."

"We need to be here," Robin began but March cut him off.

"You've been searching for hours, you'll be good for nothing by the early hours of the morning," he said, "it's pitch black, it's cold, the search has pulled up nothing. We need daylight to see what's out there, if anything," he added hastily, "so go home. Get some sleep, and something to eat. Be back here at six."

Robin tried feebly to argue but his strength was waning. Despite his earlier bravado he was feeling exhausted, mentally rather than physically, and was almost glad of having someone else telling him what to do. Evan's words about Layton being 'different' were playing through his head non-stop and he needed to switch off, just for a little while, before he went crazy.

He left slowly with Kim, both feeling anxious and deflated that the search had so far gone cold. As they trailed out to the car park Kim turned to Robin and asked nervously,

"Can I ask you a big favour?"

"Does it involve me giving you a sample in a pot this time? Asked Robin.

"No, not that big a favour," said Kim. She looked a little hesitant as she rested her hand on the door of Robin's car. "Can I come and stay with you? I told Linda to get the boys away for a couple of days until this is over. I know it sounds like an overreaction but after what happened to Molly I'm terrified Layton's going to go after my kids."

Robin shook his head.

"Not an overreaction at all," said Robin. In all honestly they had no idea _who_ Layton would be going after but anyone connected to the roof incident seemed like a strong possibility, "you did the right thing."

"I don't feel very safe going home on my own," Kim confessed.

If he was honest, neither did Robin.

"Come back to mine," he said, "we're probably safest together."

They climbed into the car and Robin started the engine.

"Would there be the possibility of pizza?" Kim asked.

Robin gave a gentle laugh.

"Kim, there is _always_ the possibility of pizza," he said.

The short drive to Robin's passed in near silence. Both he and Kim were exhausted and too worried to really think of anything much to say. The thought of getting in and locking the door behind them was a very appealing one.

However, the illusion of feeling safe behind a locked door faded away pretty rapidly as they arrived. They could see something was wrong even before they reached the door.

"Oh _fu-u-u-u-u-u…."_ Robin didn't even finish his swear word as he ran towards it. The door was ajar, the lock busted and wood splintered around it. He turned to Kim in utter alarm "Someone's been here."

"Yeah, I noticed that," Kim said a little sarcastically, but it was mostly through fear. Cautiously Robin let the door swing open and turned on the light.

"_Police!"_ he yelled, "you're surrounded!"

"Oh yeah, _surrounded,"_ Kim mocked.

"_You_ want to do this?" Robin offered sarcastically.

"Not really."

"Right – then let me carry on lying to the intruder!" Robin cried. He peered down the hallway and began to creep inside.

"Layton?" Kim asked in a whisper.

Robin glanced around.

"Can't imagine coincidences come in extra-large," he said.

They arrived at the kitchen where the sight of an empty Tupperware container and a lone pizza crust on the table struck them.

"The _bastard!"_ cried Robin, "He's eaten my leftovers! He's eaten all my bloody leftovers!"

He opened the fridge to confirm this fact.

"Does that mean pizza's off?" asked Kim, getting her priorities straight.

Robin tiptoed back out of the room and peered in the lounge.

"Nothing seems to be amiss in here," he said, then retreated and started to make his way to the bedroom. He flicked on the light and the sight of a scruffy, unmade bed greeted him. "_And_ he's been sleeping in my _bed!"_ he cried.

Kim started to get a little excited.

"Gosh, this is just like Goldilocks and the Three Bears except with your mates!" she cried, then felt a little guilty about her excitable outburst and tried to tone it down.

"I can't believe it," Robin shook his head, his face turning red in fury, "I can't sleep in there now! It's got Layton cooties all over it!"

Kim watched as Robin left the room and tried another. She shook her head slowly. This seemed strange. It all seemed very strange indeed. Layton was a desperate man – this was far too audacious for someone on the run.

"_URGH!"_

The cry from Robin made her turn cold from head to toe.

"What?" she cried.

Robin came running back towards her looking frantic.

"The bastard!" he cried.

"What?"

"He done a crap!" His anger was growing so strong that he lost his grasp on the English language, "He done a crap in my toilet and he didn't fucking _flush!"_

"At least he_ did_ it in the toilet," Kim pointed out, but Robin noted she didn't volunteer to go and check the room herself.

Robin sank to the floor, his head in his hands.

"_Fuck,"_ he breathed.

Kim knelt beside him. She looked at his fallen expression. He looked empty and devastated. On top of everything else, his home had been violated.

"I'm sorry, Rob," she said quietly, "we were broken into once. Makes you feel just wretched." She glanced around. "Doesn't look like they've taken anything?" she said a little hopefully.

Robin let out his breath.

"Except our dinner," he said.

Kim sighed.

"Except that," she agreed.

Robin closed his eyed.

"Well, it looks like there'll be no sleep for us anyway," he said quietly, "I'd better call in. They'll need to get some prints right away. If this is Layton…" he hung his head. "Fuck, Kim, _why_ would he have done this?"

"We still don't know for sure," Kim reminded him.

"Who else would have done this?"

"It just seems like an awful lot of bother for someone on the run to go to," said Kim, "wouldn't he be trying to get as far away as possible, not hanging around in the same place?"

Robin shrugged.

"You heard Evan," he said, "Layton's turned into a showman. He's doing this for a reason." He got to his feet and left the bedroom to find his phone. Kim sighed anxiously and stared at the unmade bed. What the hell was Layton playing at? Whatever it was, this was a brand new game and Kim didn't know the rules.

~xXx~

He couldn't block them out. The all-consuming cravings that filled every inch of his body. He hated them. They were abhorrent to his nature. His body twitched and trembled and he could hardly focus to drive.

The need for drugs had started to grow more severe after leaving Molly on the barge. Being on the barge had brought a little more of Layton to the surface, and with it came the desperate need to shoot up.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the rear view mirror. He could hardly recognise the twisted expression on Layton's face, the desperation and the need.

"_Fuck!"_ he cried as he slammed on the brakes, a whisker away from hitting a lamp post. He breathed heavily, staring out of the window. What was he doing here? Why had he driven in that direction anyway? _That _wasn't where he had intended to go. But apparently it was where _Layton_ intended to go.

He saw a man in a long raincoat, standing on the side of the street. A couple of young men were walking away from him. Keats took one look at the guy and knew. Knew what some part of Layton had led him there for. It wasn't what he wanted to do, not in the slightest – but it was what he _needed_ to do.

He didn't have a choice. Layton had spoken.

~xXx~

"_Sit tight and wait for help,"_ Robin rolled his eyes as he sank into the couch beside Kim, "Now I know what it's like to be on the other side of the line. It's really not very comforting when someone's broken in and that's the advice you're given."

Kim looked at Robin's expression. He had a kind of mocking pout on but his eyes were dark and troubled. She patted his arm gently and told him,

"At least we're both here."

"And to think you came back here for safety!" Robin reminded her. He sighed deeply. "Do you want anything to eat? I know Layton's eaten all the good stuff but I could make something quickly or we could call for a take-away."

Kim shook her head slowly.

"I couldn't eat now, my stomach's in knots," she said.

"Mine too," Robin sighed. He leaned back. "There was some wine left from dinner the other night, it's all yours if you want it."

"Oh,_ now_ you're talking," Kim said with a gentle laugh.

"Wait there," said Robin as he got to his feet to fetch the bottle and a glass.

While he was out of the room Kim flicked on the TV.

"Just seeing what the media's saying," she explained as Robin returned.

Robin sat beside her and handed her the glass. He poured out the wine, then turned to the screen.

"Oh great, my ugly mug's on the TV again," he mumbled as he saw a picture of himself and one of Kim. It seemed that he was on the news more often than he was off it now.

"_Chief Inspector Robin Shoebury-Thomas was involved in the rooftop confrontation and is now pursuing Arthur Layton," _the newsreader said.

"Comment about me losing my marbles and tattooing police dogs in five, four, three, two, one…"

"_Mister Shoebury-Thomas was seen asking tattooists if they would tattoo his police dogs some weeks ago…"_

"See?" cried Robin, "you see? I am never living that down!"

"_Arthur Layton is wanted for the shooting of four people, including Detective Inspector Alex Drake. He is also thought to be under suspicion of flooding the market with heavily tainted narcotics responsible for the deaths of three people including the undercover detective Victoria Stone."_

"Shit, did you hear about that?" asked Robin.

"Oh god, that's the woman who was all over the news when we were helping Alex," Kim seemed a little shaken to see her. "You know, when the story came out she looked really familiar but I never could place her. I thought maybe I'd seen her around back when I was in the force before but," she shook her head slowly and sighed. "I don't know. Sometimes I think my memory is one big piece of swiss cheese."

"_Detective Inspector Stone's death raised questions about the support offered to undercover detectives and officers,"_ the newsreader continued, _"After being assigned to infiltrate the inner circle of Nick Nailer, the notorious drug baron arrested last month, Ms Stone became addicted to narcotics and died after consuming a large amount of tainted heroin. Initial investigations showed that the drugs did not come from Nailer, that her habit had become so severe she had found an alternative supply to keep the severity of her problem a secret from the man she was trying to trap."_

"Sad, so sad," Robin shook his head.

"_Two other deaths in the capital in the following days led police to a tainted supply belonging to Arthur Layton who was thought to be making yet another attempt at building up a supply line again before his accident and coma."_

"Shit, that man just digs himself into deeper and deeper holes, doesn't he?" sighed Robin.

As he and Kim sat and awaited the arrival of help and those eager to dust for prints they both wished that they felt a little less on edge. It wasn't just Layton being on the loose, nor Robin's break-in that was making them feel this way. It felt as though something bigger was brewing, something neither could quite put their finger on. Whatever it was, they tried to block those thoughts out with the volume of the TV and the reassuring glances between them.

The hope and the prayer that Layton would be behind bars by morning seemed to be edging further away from them – and so did their bravado.


	10. Chapter 9: Sleep, Smack & Stealing Cars

_**A/N: Please note, the rating is rising to an M from this chapter onwards!**_

**Chapter 9**

"This is horrible," Robin shook his head sadly as he watched his home invaded by colleagues who were dusting for fingerprints and taking DNA samples from goodness knows what. Kim looked at him sympathetically. She wished there was something she could do. This had been the last thing Robin needed after the say they'd had.

"I'm sorry, Rob," she said sadly with a sigh.

They spotted DI March walking grimly toward them and Robin rolled his eyes.

"Great, time to bring out the big guns," he sighed.

"Sir," March arrived beside them, "I'm so very sorry this has happened to you."

Robin gave another sigh and rubbed his head.

"Just find out if it was Layton," he said.

"Yes, well," March seemed to become a little defensive suddenly, "I'm not sure how far we're going to get on that one."

Robin frowned.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

March looked a little hesitant.

"The prints from Falcon Building," he began.

Robin stared on, expecting him to continue but he went strangely quiet.

"What about them?" he prompted.

"We didn't find Layton's," March explained.

Robin stared at him.

"What do you mean you didn't find Layton's?" he frowned.

"Perhaps he was smarter than we have him credit for," March explained, "maybe he was wearing gloves."

"But you pulled fresh prints!" Robin cried, "they said so, we were there!"

"The only prints we found belonged to the previous owner of the property," March told him.

Robin began to turn cold.

"Keats?" he asked, his voice shaking. March nodded. "But I don't get it – I spoke to one of the officers myself, she thought the prints were fresh from their location and the fact that the flat had been checked for prints the last time Layton had been there…"

"No new prints from Layton were identified," March said again, a little apologetically. "That doesn't mean to say we won't find them here if it _was_ him. You said he ate your leftovers – I can't see him wearing gloves to tuck into a lasagne. We found prints on the cutlery, once we've ruled out yours that will hopefully prove one way or the other if Layton was your visitor."

Robin sank into the couch.

"This is a nightmare," he mumbled, "a total nightmare."

"We won't be finished here for a while," March apologised, "I still think it's a good idea for you to get some sleep."

"After Layton spent a night in my bed?" Robin shuddered, "I might never sleep again."

"Do you have anyone else you can stay with?" March asked, "family?"

Robin shook his head slowly and looked down. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Come to mine," Kim said quietly.

Robin looked at her gratefully.

"Thanks" he said quietly.

Kim hesitated.

"That's unless Layton's already there," she said quietly.

"How would he know where you live?"

"How did he know where _you_ lived?"

"Listen, we don't even know if Layton was the one who broke in here," March said, "we'll get the results of the prints and the hair samples we found in the bed as soon as possible. In the meanwhile, do what she says, go and get some kip on her couch and we'll see you at six."

"What about my door?" Robin mumbled a little half-heartedly.

"Someone will be staying here as long as you need," March told him "crime scene. Tomorrow you can get someone to fix your door, in the meanwhile no one else is going to come and take advantage of the open house."

"Come on, Rob." Kim said quietly, "go and grab some things and we'll go and get some sleep at mine."

"I'm not going to be able to sleep after this," sighed Robin.

"Just try," said Kim. She glanced around. "Anything you want to take?"

"I'm kind of used to travelling light," Robin gave a half-smile as he thought about their time 'on the run' with Alex, fleeing from place to place, sleeping in strange beds wearing random pieces of clothing, never knowing what was around the corner.

Kim smiled back.

"Good point," she said, "come on. Let's get out of here."

Robin couldn't help but feel relieved to be leaving the flat as Kim led him away. The thought of someone breaking in made him feel soiled and disturbed but the idea that it had been Layton made him feel positively haunted. He couldn't stand being there a moment longer. Plus, when all of this was over he would have some serious disinfecting to do.

~xXx~

Keats didn't even know what he was doing as he approached the man. His limbs were shaking so much that he could hardly control them. He kept his hands firmly in his pockets to stop his trembles from being seen and arrived by his side. The man looked him up and down. There was contempt in his eyes. Keats swallowed and spoke words that came to him so unnaturally.

"I need something," he whispered, his voice shaking too.

The man looked away.

"Do you now?"

Keats jiggled a little on the spot. What the hell was he supposed to do? He didn't speak 'drug'!

"W-what have you got?" he asked.

The man looked back at him. He regarded him like something a cat had done in his shoe.

"For you?" he wiped his nose, "Nothing."

"Listen I don't think you understand," Keats's tone became angry and desperate as he edged closer to the man.

"I understand you've got a death wish to show your face around here," the man spat.

Keats reached into his pocket and pulled out the money he stole from Evan.

"I've got thirty pounds," he said. The man gave a sneering laugh that seemed to come from his nostrils and turned away. "Just give me the stuff!"

"I'll give you a bloody kicking –" the man began but something as rose up inside of Keats an angry elbow dug deep into his chest. The man gasped and fell back against the wall, shocked by Keats's actions. A combination of the rage of two men, the pure evil that lay within Keats and the desperation from Layton's addiction made him a very dangerous person to cross.

"Give me the stuff!" he spat, his elbow pressed to his throat. When the man hesitated he shoved it in a little deeper, causing the man to gag and choke.

"_OK! OK!"_ he gasped, desperate for breath He reached into an inner pocket in his coat and thrust a small package upon Keats. "Your usual, _sir."_

Keats swallowed.

"I need equipment," he spat.

"What? You must have a ton of –"

"_Equipment!"_ Keats spat. When he grew bored with waiting for the man to give him what he needed he took matters into his own hands. A fist in the stomach, a kick to follow, a boot in the face – when the man stopped moving Keats finally stopped kicking him and started rummaging through his pockets. He found a tin with everything he needed. He didn't care whose needles he used – this was only a temporary body anyway, he was under no illusions about that. He also found a nice little packet of cocaine, _for personal use._

"Hmm, speedballing," Keats said quite happily, before wondering where that sentence had come from and why he felt excited about the prospect. The sound of footsteps brought him back to reality – the reality of a man lying on the ground in a pool of blood with Keats's boot mark in his guts. It was time to leave, as fast as possible. He jumped back in the car and turned the key in the ignition. He knew it was almost time to get rid of that car and pick up another. There would be time for that soon enough, he was sure for now he needed to get well away from the half-dead dealer and fill his veins with something so unfamiliar to one part of him and yet second nature to the physical.

~xXx~

Kim felt anxious as they arrived at her flat. She really felt sure she'd find her own door smashed in but there was no sign of any damage. She breathed a sigh of relief as she led Robin in.

"It's not like you don't know the place," she said, "go and sit down, I'll be right there."

Robin dragged his exhausted body through to the lounge.

"Why? Where are you going?" he asked.

Kim disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. She dropped her keys on the table then came back with a piece of paper and a sad smile upon her face.

"Letter from Linda," she said, "and the boys." she walked across the room and fetched a bottle. "God, I'm glad I told them to go away while Layton's on the loose."

"What are you doing?" Robin asked as Kim thrust a glass into his hand and started pouring out scotch.

"It's medicinal," she told him.

Robin didn't bother protesting that he didn't want it. These were extreme circumstances.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Just the fumes of the liquid made his eyes water but he took a sip nevertheless.

"Poor Evan," Kim said as she poured her own drink, "even _he_ didn't deserve the trouserless treatment."

Robin coughed a little, then looked at Kim seriously.

"Kim, you were there on the roof. We all saw Layton. He was a wreck. There's no way he would have been strong enough, physically or mentally, to do all this stuff."

Kim drank some more scotch, rather quickly. She had been thinking all the same things.

"Maybe… maybe the time in his coma meant that the physical effects of the drugs lessened and he woke up without withdrawal?" she suggested.

"No one comes out of a coma strong enough to batter a couple of guards and stab a doctor like that," said Robin. "Kim, I've _been_ there. After my accident… my time in ninety five… I was out cold for days and when I woke up it took me so long to regain the strength to even _stand._ Something's not right."

Kim took a deep breath. She tactfully ignored Robin spluttering as he drank and tried to think about things logically.

"Alright," she said quietly, "then what about Layton's accident?" She bit her lip. "You and Alex crashed. Alex went home. What if something happened to Layton?"

Robin had a momentary, horrible thought of Layton waking up in Alex's body and shuddered at the idea.

"I don't know if I'm following you" he said.

"Well, could a younger Layton have woken up here?" Kim suggested, "maybe there's a criminal version of _that_ world?"

Robin rubbed his forehead. His head was starting to loll a little. Despite his protests he was so tired he could just about fall asleep right there and then.

"But Layton's always been a bit of a mess," he said, "it seems like he's woken up with a totally different personality."

"You do hear of people waking up from comas and behaving differently," said Kim.

Robin spluttered into his glass as he laughed.

"Yeah, sometimes from the whole _going back in time_ thing!" he commented.

"OK, bad example," sighed Kim, but she smiled.

Robin sipped from his glass again. This time he didn't splutter or choke. His mind ran over another possibility.

"Maybe if there is a criminal version of that place, Layton went back there?" he asked, "Maybe – like us – he went back to a difficult year in his own life and woke up all… _self-assured?"_

Kim downed the rest of her drink. She was surprised to find her hands were shaking.

"Oh, let's face it," she said quietly, "we can go through every possibility and it doesn't change the fact that Layton is on the loose and we still need to find him."

Robin nodded slowly.

"I know," he said.

Kim glanced at the clock.

"It's getting late," she said, "I know what you told March but you really do look tired. Maybe we should try to get some sleep."

Robin nodded slowly.

"I suppose you're right," he said.

"Come on," Kim dragged herself to her feet and hauled Robin up from the sofa, "off to bed with you."

"Wouldn't be the first time I've slept in your bed," he commented.

Kim gave a little wistful smile. There were elements of the situation reminding her of their time with Alex. It made her feel a little nostalgic.

"You're not borrowing my pyjamas though," she warned.

Robin laughed.

"It's a deal," he said.

~xXx~

The car came to a halt as the toilet block became the most beautiful thing Keats had ever seen. He could hardly function by now as he stumbled out of the car and towards the dimly-lit block. He tumbled into the doorway, threw himself into a cubicle and locked the door. Slowly he pulled the lid over the toilet and sat down. It wasn't as though he had any experience with this… it wasn't as though he knew what to do… but something within him – within _Layton_ - took him over and carried out the steps as though they were second nature.

The second Keats felt the rush spreading through his body was a moment he would never forget. He leaned back against the cistern, hardly believing something could have such a strong impact on his body. The rush was incredible; the euphoria stuck him with an intensity he had never expected. While for Layton this was a daily occurrence, for Keats this was an experience to behold. He started to wonder which of the deadly sins this would come under, because he was certainly going to bump whichever one it was up his list.

He didn't know how long passed. He didn't know how long he was sitting there, the high taking control of his body and mind, but finally someone started hammering on the door and demanding to come in for a crap.

He started to panic a little. He rushed around, gathering up all the equipment and the evidence, hiding it under his coat before he opened the door and ran, ran as fast as he could so that the desperate man couldn't see his features.

As he raced back onto the street he saw someone looking at his car. Well, _Evan's_ car, examining the number plate.

_Shit. It's been on the news._

It was time to leave it behind. Time to find a new vehicle to carry on the journey.

Just a short distance away he saw a man standing by the open driver's side door of a car. He was yelling something to a rather tartily-dressed woman who was walking away and sticking two fingers up at the man.

"_Oh, come on, Michelle! Nothing happened! I wouldn't fuck your best mate!"_ the man cried, "_get back in the car and we'll talk about this, yeah?"_

The woman yelled back something Keats couldn't quite catch but the words _"you bastard_" and "_lop off your cock with a blunt instrument_" were heard.

"_Don't be stupid!"_ the man cried after her, "_you're far away from home, you've not got the money for a cab, just get in and I'll drive you back!"_

It was now or never.

"Very kind of you," Keats hissed as he ran towards him from behind, jamming his elbow into the side of the man's head, knocking him sideways and jumping in the car. He slammed the door and turned the keys already in the ignition. The man scrambled to his feet and tried pulling on the door but Keats wasn't having that. He began to speed away as far as the car and the traffic would allow and finally managed to slip down a side road, away from the glare of the public.

A shout of elation came from deep within him. _Another battle won._ He knew that he was still on borrowed time and that he would have to work fast to cause the maximum amount of suffering in the small amount of time he had, but the car would buy him a little more time.

"That's two appetites sated," he whispered to himself, "two down, one to go."

~xXx~

"I didn't think this whole _travelling light_ thing through very well, did I?" sighed Robin as he took off his shoes.

"What do you mean?"

"I've got nothing to sleep in," Robin sighed again.

"I told you, you're not borrowing my pyjamas," said Kim. She got into bed fully clothed and pulled the duvet up around her neck. It was a silly, childish way of seeking comfort and reassurance but it seemed to do the trick.

"I'll just taker my shirt off," Robin said, "I don't want to look as crumped as a crisp packet when we turn up in the morning."

Kim looked at his arm and shoulder as he shrugged off his shirt.

"Tattoo's healing well," she smiled.

Robin pulled his arm around a little to glance at it himself.

"You did a wonderful job," he told her, "I'm glad you're not giving up the tattooing full time. That would be a real waste of talent."

"You mean you want to get another freebie," Kim laughed.

"Hey, I more than earned that tattoo in the cost of pizza ingredients," Robin teased. As they both laughed it felt natural and 'normal', as though they were just two friends chatting. But the thought of Layton was always there at the edge of their minds.

"I'll put the alarm on," Kim told him, "we'll get up at five."

"Getting up in your house at ridiculous times of the morning seems to be a running theme," Robin commented.

He rolled over with his back to Kim and tried to get the pillow comfortable.

"Did you have those muscles last week?" asked Kim.

"Hmm?" Robin was already starting to fell asleep, "Oh. Joined a gym. Few weeks ago."

"You did?" This seemed like particularly amusing news to Kim who immediately felt guilty for laughing.

"After I had Alex faint on me about three times and couldn't even lift her up I decided maybe it was time I got a bit more strength in my body," said Robin.

"Not mocking you," Kim held her hands up, "honestly."

"Good," mumbled Robin as he began to drift away, "cos when I've bulked up you'll be sorry."

Before Kim could get in a sarcastic reply Robin had already started to snore gently. She settled down beside him and closed her eyes. It had been a nightmare of a day and she knew things could only get darker from this point on. But she also knew they'd faced the seemingly impossible once before and come through it together. Whatever surprises Layton had in store for them the next day, they'd be ready.

On that thought, she found sleep taking her away and the troubles of the day left her behind, just for a few hours. Soon they'd be back on the trail. For now, they only thing they needed to chase was sleep.


	11. Chapter 10: Doors, Dreams & Dumb Kids

_**A/N: This chapter was supposed to be going up tomorrow but having houseguests for the weekend and not being able to write for a few days meant my muse went a bit loco today and kind of exploded so I wanted to get this posted before I get way ahead and start confusing myself again! Be warned, from the next chapter things will become a lot darker. That's your early warning siren! Also, sorry if you got last night's chapter again. I got interrupted in the middle of posting ther chapter and just realised I selected the wrong one -x-**_

**Chapter 10**

The beeping of the alarm was met with an ungrateful thwack from Kim. Robin rubbed his eyes a little and looked at her.

"Poor thing, it's only doing its job," he said.

"Yeah well," Kim pulled herself upright, "alarm clocks, traffic wardens, dentists… all in the same category as far as I'm concerned."

Robin sat up and reached for his shirt.

"I was quite glad to wake up," he said, "Had a horrible dream."

Kim looked over at him. His expression was troubled.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

Robin sighed and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Sort of vague stuff," he sighed, "Simon was there. I couldn't put my finger on what was going on. It was just like…" he shook his head slowly, "like he was so low and I couldn't do anything to help him."

Kim tried to give him a sympathetic smile but it was strained. She remembered how depressed Simon was in 1995 and 1996 without Robin.

"You don't talk about Simon very much any more," she said quietly.

"I feel like I'm all talked out," Robin said quietly, "and talking isn't going to bring him back. Doesn't mean I'm not thinking about him all the time." He sighed and shook his head. "Like every moment of every day."

Kim nodded slowly.

"I know," she said quietly.

She watched as Robin pulled on his shirt and climbed out of bed to fasten the buttons. She began to wonder why she'd thought it was a good idea to go to bed in her clothes, she looked like a scrunched up piece of paper.

"Just going to get some fresh clothes on and get showed quickly," she said, "you know where the kitchen is." She paused and gave a cheeky smile. "And if you happened to accidently make breakfast while you're there it wouldn't be the worst thing that's ever happened."

"Bloody cheek," Robin threw a pillow at her but missed by inches as she darted from the room, giggling.

He turned to the window and peered through the curtains. Outside, the world was still sleeping. He didn't know what the day would hold in store for either of them but he knew it was going to be a difficult one. Whatever they found, the chances of a peaceful resolution to the Layton situation were looking more remote all the time. A search of woodland awaited and he hoped that it would turn up nothing. The thought of what March suspected they would find chilled him to the core.

~xXx~

Kim closed her eyes as the hot water pounded against her skin. It felt good. Made her feel alive. But it didn't wash away the fear and the anxiety that were eating away at her inside. She felt so strange. She couldn't put her finger in exactly why but something didn't seem right. Things felt different and peculiar. There was something in the air.

She shut off the water and reached for her towel. The steam filled the air in the room as she wrapped it around her and began to dry herself off. She couldn't quite believe the path her week was taking. Just the day before it had been a normal day like any other. She had awoken, greeted her family and set about her daily routine just as any other. Now here she was in the middle of a manhunt for a crazed addict who had seemingly been through a personality transplant.

There was more to it than that. She knew it. But she wasn't ready to think about that any further.

She dried and dressed quickly, then went downstairs and padded through to the kitchen where a pile of toast sat on the table.

"What, no bacon and eggs" she teased.

"I can only work with the tools you have provided!" Robin told her, "You want bacon and eggs? You make sure you have them in the fridge next time I make an unscheduled stop-over!"

Kim sank into a chair and grabbed a slice which she started to butter with haste.

"I can't stop thinking about Layton," she said quietly.

"Ooh, romantic!"

"I'm serious, Rob," Kim took a bite of toast and chewed it quickly, "something doesn't feel right."

Robin nodded slowly as he buttered his own slice. He knew what she meant. But he was no closer to explaining it than Kim was.

"Let's just get out there and see what we find today," he said quietly.

They ate in silence after that, both too busy trying to sate their hunger to think about constructing a sentence. Neither had eaten since the previous morning and both were starving. As the toast mountain slowly depleted and the rate of the crunching slowed down Kim finally wiped her fingers on a napkin and gave a deep sigh.

"I suppose we should set off."

Robin looked at her reluctantly. After the previous day the last thing he wanted to do was to set off on another day of Layton hunting.

"I know," he sighed, "I suppose it's too much to hope for that someone found him overnight?"

"I should have put the TV on," Kim commented. Still, it was too late now, The sun was starting to rise and it was time to head off on the trail of the man neither of them really wanted to see.

~xXx~

Nick Nailer wasn't really very pleased to be woken up at an ungodly hour and dragged from his bed to the telephone.

"I was just having a nice dream then!" he complained as the prison guard dragged him along.

"Urgent call from your brother," the warden told him.

Nailer hesitated and glanced at the guard. He felt his heart rate increase quickly and he swallowed.

"Oh really?" he asked.

"We wouldn't usually allow calls like this," the guard reminded him, "so don't be ungrateful and get your backside in there."

He opened a door and shoved Nailer into a room where a telephone sat on a table, the receiver off the hook. With a moment's hesitation he lifted it up and held it to his ear.

"Talk," he said quietly.

There was a pause.

"Nick Nailer?"

"Yes?" Nailer tried to place the voice.

There was another pause.

"Message about the _lame dog_, sir," the voice told him, "it's escaped from the pound."

Nailed hesitated. He swallowed and closed his eyes.

"Oh, has it really?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"He's been… _biting people,"_ the voice told him, "including a friend of yours."

Nailed swallowed.

"I see."

He heard someone clearing their throat on the line.

"Will you be wanting us to put him down for you, sir?"

Nailed took a deep breath.

"With haste," he advised before he cut the call and closed his eyes. Thoughts of a woman with long, red hair flowed around in his head and he felt an unprecedented lump forming in his throat. Anger and devastation began to rise inside of him but he fought them back, just as he always tried to. His job wasn't to get upset. He wouldn't allow himself to crumble for a woman who was never truly his anyway.

And as for the anger? Well, he'd leave that to his men on the streets who would be watching for that lame dog.

~xXx~

Robin and Kim walked slowly towards March who was surrounded by a large group of officers and detectives. However, the moment he saw them he abandoned the people he was instructing and made straight for them.

"Thank you both for coming," he said, his face looking a little haunted.

Robin froze.

"What's happened now?" he said immediately.

March looked from one of them to the other, trying to decide which looked the most anxious. Neither without good reason, he was quick to note.

"There have been two," he hesitated, _"incidents."_

"What kind of incidents?"

March took a deep breath.

"A dealer's in hospital. Looks like he was attacked fairly violently. He's in surgery right now, internal bleeding. Someone's given him a fair old kicking."

Robin hesitated.

"You think it was Layton?" he whispered.

"We found The Beard's car not far away, near a public toilet block," March continued, "there's evidence of drug use in the toilets and another car was stolen from just outside. Man and woman in shock. Didn't really get a good look but they picked Layton's picture out. Said he'd cut his hair though."

"Shit," Robin shuddered.

March looked at him seriously.

"Get your team ready," he continued, "we'll give you the directions to the woods near White's house." He turned to Kim. "I need you to get to the scene of the attack on the dealer."

"Hey, hey, woah," Robin interrupted, "she comes with me."

"We have limited manpower and resources," March told him, "we need you co-ordinating the search with the dogs, but we need her elsewhere." He looked to Kim. "I pulled up your record from your time in the force before. It was pretty impressive."

That surprised Kim.

"Oh?" she said, "thank you."

"Commented on your eye for detail," March continued, "and that's what we need. Now it's getting light we need a thorough search of the crime scene and I can only spare a couple of my men."

Kim hesitated. She didn't want to work apart from Robin, not considering the situation, but she did want to be as helpful as she could.

"If that's where I'm needed," she said quietly.

March nodded.

"I appreciate your support," he said, "I'll take you to DS Fullerton, he'll brief you about the attack on the way."

Robin felt anxious as Kim began to follow March. He reached out and grasped her shoulder.

"Kim," he said quickly. She looked around and he could see she wasn't sure either. "I'm not happy about this," he told her.

Kim shook her head slowly. She was no happier than Robin but didn't want to say so for fear of jeopardising her return to the force.

"I'll be fine," she said, "and you'll be fine. Look, it probably won't take all that long. Soon as we've finished I'll head to you and help with the woodland search." She noticed he still didn't look certain but he nodded nevertheless.

"Alright," he said, "but take care, Kim."

Kim flashed Robin an anxious smile.

"You too," she said quietly

Robin couldn't shake that dark feeling as he watched her walking away. He was getting paranoid now, but it was no wonder. With Layton still loose and attacking just about everyone in sight no one was safe – least of all Robin's sense of security.

~xXx~

The girl watched him as he hungrily ate the last of the pizza.

"Don't know what you're staring at," Keats muttered, licking his lips, "it's not like you'd want any. Aren't teenage girls always supposed to be on diets?" he laughed to himself, "of course, you can't answer that, can you? Forgot about the gag. Lovely and quiet around here."

Now the sun was rising he was able to see the rest of the barge a little more clearly. He was pleased to find a few useful items – a couple more lengths of rope, an old radio some tramp had left behind and surprisingly a selection of books by Barbara Cartland, one of which had a bookmark inside baring the slogan '_This Book Belongs To Arthur Layton'. Very_ worrying, Keats thought to himself.

His night had been a busy one. After stealing the car he'd gone on to mug a hoodie and taken his grey top to hide his features a little. A quick break in to a hardware store had also brought him some useful supplies.

"You see, girl," he told Molly, "the interesting thing about sharing a head with this… limp piece of celery is that he does actually have a few surprising pieces of knowledge inside this addled brain." He turned back to the half-constructed item on a plank of wood. "I never knew he had it in him. How he even remembered how to build a bomb after all that heroin is beyond me." He fiddled with it for a moment before getting to his feet. "Anyway. Might not even need that. We'll see how things go." He got to his feet and put up his hood. "I've got important business to see to so you enjoy the river views and I'm sure you'll have some company here before too long."

He left her on the damp barge alone as he set off on another journey. Things were hotting up now. He needed to press on. Now daylight was here he knew the net would be closing in and he needed to act fast. Otherwise there was another appetite that would remain unquenched.

~xXx~

Robin stared out at the misty woodland as his team worked their way through the trees. He heard the barking of dogs and the rustle of feet against leaves and branches. He felt like he was stuck in a perpetual nightmare. He didn't know what it was but something was playing on his mind. Threads of his conversation with Kim from the night before kept coming back to him. Layton was different. He was _different_. Now he'd been on another rampage, Robin couldn't understand where he was finding all this strength.

"Sir?" A uniformed officer came running up to him breathlessly and for a terrible moment Robin thought they had grim news about Molly.

"What?" he whispered.

The man held a shiny object in his direction.

"Here," he said.

Robin stared at it. It was a set of keys.

"What's this?" he demanded.

"Keys," said the man.

Robin closed his eyes and tried counting to ten but it didn't seem to be doing any use so he stopped at five and cried,

"I can _see_ that much! What do you want _me_ to do with them?"

"They're for your new door," the man said matter of factly.

Robin frowned.

"I have a new door?" he asked.

The man nodded.

"Your flat's all secure again," he said, "and here are your keys."

Robin took them a little warily.

"But," he began, "I didn't even _choose_ a new door!"

The officer shrugged.

"It'll be a nice surprise then," he said and left before Robin could ask him any more questions about doors and keys.

Robin sighed and pocketed the keys. He was imagining some horrible stained glass monstrosity that he would find when he finally arrived home.

"Great," he mumbled, "now I'm worrying more about my door than about Layton!"

He fell silent as he followed his officers and the dogs further into the wild. His heart raced as he thought about the purpose of the search and nausea struck him hard. He begged silently for Molly to be found safe and well but as Layton didn't seem to discriminate who he attacked it didn't seem very likely.

~xXx~

Hiding beneath his hood, Keats walked slowly down the street. He wasn't sure where to turn now. He had all these notions and plans in his mind and no way of putting them into action. He passed an electrical store and glanced at the window where some million inch super-duper surround sound smellivision TV set was standing in the window at the brilliant knocked-down price of several billion pounds, or whatever it was. Keats wasn't really interested in the financial and technical details to be honest. He was only interested in the images that played out to him.

The news played away. A ticker ran across the bottom of the screen attributing further attacks to the _escaped criminal Arthur Layton_. There was a lot of _POLICE: DO NOT CROSS_ tape all over the place and the background was hauntingly familiar. It might have been dark and in the middle of intense desperation that he'd been there but he would recognise the spot where he'd beaten and kicked that ratty little dealer anywhere.

The sight of a woman trying to move the camera away from the site caused his heart to seize up in his chest that he felt for certain that he was having a heart attack.

_It's the drugs! I knew I shouldn't' have let Layton get his fix! See, this is why I always kept my nose clean – literally! Oh shit -_

But after a few seconds he realised his heart was still beating, fluttering wildly as his eyes stayed fixed upon the face on the screen. He felt sick and sweaty, his hands began to shake and his lips grew dry. He knew her. He knew her well. There she was, with the same dark hair he'd seen on the news the day before and in the photograph he'd stolen from Robin's lounge.

"Kim," he whispered.

Immediately he chastised himself.

_Kimberley. Kimberly. Kimberley!_

Nevertheless she couldn't tear his eyes away from her. As he stared on, the image on the screen changed and returned to a stuffy newsreader in a studio but inside his mind the picture of Kim still played. He couldn't see anything but her. She consumed his thoughts and consumed his vision and she was _there_, where he had been just hours before. He tried to moisten his dry lips by running his tongue across them but his tongue was dry too. His whole _mouth_ was dry. He felt that heart starting to seize up again as he thought about how close she might be to him at that very moment. He wasn't a million miles away from the scene of that _incident. _He swallowed and tried to convince his common sense to overrule what the chipolata stashed in his pants was trying to persuade him to do. however, the chipolata won through.

It was with a burst of euphoria far higher than any drug could provide that he ran back to the car and let his heart control his actions. He knew it was reckless and audacious but he hadn't managed to achieve the feats of malevolence he'd been able to get away with both in life and death by being shy and retiring. If there was a way, he was going to find it.

~xXx~

_Almost like I've never been away._

It had been eight years since Kim last entered an investigation. In fact, technically speaking the last one she'd been involved with was in 1996. After awaking in 2003 she'd left the force immediately to lay low, as per Simon's advice. Now here she was back in the thick of it, although there seemed to be a lot more marshalling away of camera crews than she remembered. Had there been much rolling news in 2003? She wasn't sure. But the constant rolling news in 2011 meant a lot of airtime to fill.

"A lot of air time to fill with pictures of me shoeing the twats away!" Kim commented to herself as she pulled another length of _POLICE: DO NOT CROSS_ tape around the scene.

To her surprise a child of no more than eight or nine ducked under the tape, let off a string of four-letter words at Kim and ran back in the opposite direction.

For a split second Kim stood in shocked silence, unsure what the hell she was supposed to do, then a moment later she turned on her heels, narrowly avoided tangling herself in the tape and dashed underneath it.

"_Oi!"_ she cried out. No little kid was going to get away with _that_ she decided as she followed him down the side alley he'd fled along.

~x~

The exchange was swift and smart. Keats was already holding the ten pound note he'd found in his last victim's car out for the child to snatch as he turned the corner and ran by. From there, it was only a matter of time. Waiting. Listening. The sound of the footsteps coming ever closer, clomping along the ground. He closed his eyes for a split second, then thrust out one arm and caught the fast moving Kim around the neck. Her speed and momentum carried him a few paces but the second she felt a knife against the far side of her neck she stopped abruptly. He felt her swallow as he held his hand firmly to her throat.

"_Kimberley,"_ he breathed.

That was it. That was the moment she_ knew_. The thought she hadn't let herself wonder, the possibility too dark to contemplate was right there, coming to life before her.

She knew who was holding the knife to her throat and it sure as hell wasn't Layton. Not the inside.

It was her past back to haunt her in the very strongest of terms.


	12. Chapter 11: Scares, Scarves & Scars

**Chapter 11**

"So here's what we're going to do," His voice was as calm and measured as Kim had ever heard it, "I'm going to walk you slowly to the other end of this alley where my car is waiting, you are not going to scream and you're not going to struggle. Because if you do, do you know what will happen?"

Kim flinched as the blade pressed against the skin of her neck.

"The knife is giving me a fairly good idea, she hissed boldly.

"That's only half the story, Kimberley," hissed Keats, "because the second I take your life you know where you'll be going?" he paused for effect. "Straight to Fenchurch West CID. Because look who's right here to take you."

"Fucking bastard, let me go," hissed Kim.

"You're not sticking to the plan," Keats reminded her, "it's walking quietly out of the alleyway or going to hell. Choice is yours."

Kim found herself being pushed forcefully along the alley. It looked as though Keats was very certain that she was going to follow his instructions. But Kim had already had enough of doing as Keats told her back in 1995 and biding her time she chose the moment his blade eased up just slightly to grasp his wrist and pull it back, yanking herself from his grasp and swinging a powerful punch into the side of his face. The _Oof!_ noise he made as he tumbled backwards a little was a satisfying sound indeed to hear but unfortunately for Kim the power of her punch had knocked her a little off-balance herself. She wasn't in the best of condition that morning, running on little sleep and nothing but toast in the last 24 hours. As she stumbled a little Keats gathered all of his strength and fury to lean forward and grasp her arms.

"_No!"_ she cried.

"Didn't I warn you not to scream?" he hissed, throwing her to the ground and pulling her hands behind her back. He sat on her in a style reminiscent of Simon's trapping of Nailer in '95 and pulled a thin, silk scarf from his pocket. He'd found it in the car. _Must have belonged to the pissed-off woman_, he thought. _Or the other woman he was banging._

"Fuck off!" Kim spat as he tied her wrists tightly behind her.

"You're forgetting your transfer," he hissed into her ear, "try anything else and you're going straight to Fenchurch West."

"I'm not a cop!" cried Kim, "you can't take me."

"Who left you in charge of the _Police Do Not Cross_ tape then?"

"I've not been on the force for eight years!" Kim cried, "I'm not officially re-joining until next week. Kill me now, you have nothing."

Keats stared at her. Glared, even. Was she right? Did you still have to be a cop at the exact moment you died to end up in that world? That was one point he wasn't clear on. But the fact she was joining in a man hunt to track him down was enough for him.

"If it looks like a cop and smells like a cop then it is a cop," he spat against her ear. "Come on, up."

He dragged her to her feet and held his knife to her throat again, pushing her towards the car. The closer they came to the end of the alleyway the more she screamed so he put his hand firmly over his mouth long enough to silence her while he opened the back door of the car and pushed her inside. She lay across the floor, unable to get up with her hands tied securely behind her. Her screams increased but as he slammed the door and ran around to the driver's seat he could see there was no one around in the quiet backstreet.

"Oh _shush_ now," he said as he closed the door behind him and started the engine, "it's not like anyone's going to hear. Don't you want to save your voice for insulting me?" He heard her spit angrily. "Now, _that's_ not very ladylike."

"_I'm_ not very ladylike," her angry voice came from behind him.

"You're certainly more ladylike than the Kim I know so well.," he said, raising an eyebrow. "What's happened to you? The long dark hair? The clothes?"

"I grew up," Kim said crossly, "while you just grew more twisted."

"Ooh, _meow,"_ Keats laughed.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kim cried, "And _how_… I mean, I don't even… can't understand…?"

Keats leaned back nonchalantly as he drove along.

"Mystery, isn't it? Frankly I have no idea either, Kimberley. Caught a lift on some sort of energy. Woke up here. Crappy little bedsit of a body but beggars can';t be choosers."

Kim closed her eyes. Her heart was going at a rate of knots and she tried to think her way out of the situation.

"Look," she began quietly, "why don't you let me go? Turn yourself in now. Tell them where Molly is. They'll go easy on you if you give yourself up. You might be able to get a deal."

Keats's laughter was strong and wild.

"Oh my _word,_ that is one of the funniest…" he trailed off, "Listen to yourself Kimberley. Give myself _up?"_

"Alright then," Kim swallowed, "Alright. Tell me where Molly is, let _me_ go, I'll get her and you disappear off into the sunset. Start a whole new life in two thousand and eleven. No one to stop you. No one to hold you back. What do you say?"

"Oh _please,_ I'm not intending to stay in this body for much longer," Keats sighed.

That surprised Kim. Why would he not? He'd received his free ticket back to the real world. What sort of fool would pass that up?

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

Keats glanced over his shoulder.

"Look at me, Kim," he said, "well… you _can't _look at me from down there, obviously…" he laughed again, "but you've seen this body. Not really me, is it?" he stared ahead a little distantly as he drove on. "And I _know_ you know me, Kimberley. You know me better than anyone else ever has.

"I know the hazy version of you that you pumped into my head along with the gas and air," Kim spat.

"It was more than that," Keats told her, "I know that."

"You don't know a thing," Kim hissed.

Keats raised an eyebrow.

"Getting tetchy, Kimberley?" he asked.

"It's _Kim!"_ she cried, "It's fucking _Kim!"_

"That's what Robin calls you when you're out on the town together, is it?" Keats asked.

Kim froze. There was a strange note in Keats's voice. It was a hint of… _something._ Jealousy? Resentment?

"What are you even_ talking_ about now?" she cried.

"When you're out keeping the streets clean of beards," Keats spat.

"_What?"_

"Simon know you're cosying up to his bum-boy, does he?" Keats hissed.

"Robin's my friend, don't even _think_ about starting on him."

"A friend who frames your picture, Keats spat.

Kim hesitated. She felt herself starting to shake.

"It_ was_ you who broke into his flat," she whispered.

"Well done, Kimberley, you should be a detective," Keats sneered.

Kim closed her eyes. This was all becoming so hard to follow.

"Why did you do that?" she cried, "to eat his leftovers and take a crap?"

"I had fond memories of that flat," Keats sighed happily.

Kim swallowed. It seemed as though she was getting nowhere fast with her questioning. Eventually she whispered,

"Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see very soon," hissed Keats.

That was the last thing he said on the journey. Kim didn't bother to reply. She wasn't interested in making small talk with him. She tried to wriggle her hands free from the scarf but the knots were too tight and too secure. She tried to slip out of them but she was held tightly by them. It seemed as though there was no hope. None at all. As she lay there she longed for a miracle but didn't believe for one moment that one would come her way. She didn't have that kind of luck.

After what seemed like an eternity of laying on the floor the car finally stopped. She could hear the sound of water nearby. She heard Keats opening and closing the car door and then the sound of the boot opening. Now what? She waited in fear as the boot closed again and footsteps edged closer until the door in the back of the car opened and Keats reached towards her. He dragged her onto the backseat, unimpressed by her cries for help.

"Stop that," he spat, giving her a rather pathetic slap. The fact that it held such little power shocked her more than the slap itself. She looked at him, surprised. What the hell was that supposed to be? Still, it did the trick for his purpose as she went silent. "Right," he began as he held her ankles together and began to tie a rope around them, "some extra insurance."

"Get off my fucking legs!" cried Kim, struggling and writhing but his hold was firm and he wasn't intending to let her go. He tied the rope nice and firmly, then pulled a second scarf from behind him. This one was thicker and woollen and reeked of stale aftershave.

"That's enough of your lip," he spat as he reached forward to tie it around her mouth but as he tried to hold her neck still the sight of a scar made him freeze in shock. His eyes fixed upon her bullet wound. He hadn't seen it earlier. Now it was as clear as day. He reached towards it, let his fingers grace the surface of her skin.

"What the fuck are you _doing?"_ Kim cried, "get off me!"

Keats turned to her, his eyes wide.

"But…" he whispered, his mouth dry suddenly, "but how? Scars… they don't come back with you…"

Visions of his own bullet burying itself into her neck in 1995 came to him. They filled his mind and blinded him for a moment. It was all he could see. It was one of the last things he remembered before he woke up in Layton's body.

"It wasn't your bullet," Kim hissed.

"What?"

"Your _landlord_ did that to me," Kim spat, still struggling beneath her binds.

Keats stared at Kim for a moment. Something was starting to overcome him. There was a sense of guilt welling up inside of him that he was finding it impossible to understand. He looked back at the scar. The exact place… the _very same_ place… how could that be?

Suddenly the sense of guilt faded and the malevolence took over again. He looked back at Kim.

"Perhaps this is a fitting body to find myself in after all," he said flatly and pulled her out of the car by her feet. His shock at seeing the bullet wound right where his own gun had left her scarred completely threw him for a moment and he forgot about the gag completely. It seemed a little unnecessary anyway, there was no one around to hear, except for Molly and what was _she_ going to do?

He hoisted Kim over his shoulder and took her to the barge, every scream from her lips threatening to burst his eardrum and every swing from her tied legs coming closer and closer to hitting him somewhere that was going to _really_ hurt. It didn't matter though, he just needed to get her onto the barge and from there his plans could really start to steam on ahead.

Now he had Molly for blackmail purposes and Kim for his own enjoyment. But there was still one further person he needed to seek revenge upon while he was here, in flesh and bone. A man for whom he was finding more and more reasons to hate with every passing moment, so it seemed. Once number three was in the bag, from there his plans could only go in one direction – the direction he deserved. The lower his actions grew, the higher he felt. Forget Layton's kind of high, he thought – his own base emotions brought him all the satisfaction her needed.


	13. Chapter 12: Horror, Hatred & Hair

**Chapter 12**

As Keats threw her to the floor, Kim caught sight of the tied and gagged Molly across the other side of the barge. Despite her current state she felt enormous relief to know that she was still alive at the very least.

"Welcome to my humble abode," said Keats, "well… _your_ humble abode. You won't be leaving so you might as well enjoy the view."

"What the hell are you bringing me here for?" cried Kim.

"_Layton_ seemed to think this was a good place," Keats informed her. He knelt down beside her. "you know, I really preferred the natural look."

Kim felt taken aback by his comment.

"What?"

"Too much make-up," Keats told her. He reached out and touched her eyelid which caused her to shudder and turn her head away, "you never wear make up back home."

"That wasn't my home," Kim spat.

"And why did you grow your hair?" his critique of her appearance continued, "you have such character with your short hair. The dark hair doesn't suit you."

"Trying to pitch your own makeover show doesn't suit _you,"_ Kim hissed. She was constantly trying to work on her binds but to no avail. It seemed she would never loosen them.

"You've lost your curves," he said.

Kim just wished he would take his eyes and his hands off her.

"What?"

"You're curvier back there."

"Fatter you mean," Kim snapped. She stared at him, his expression was strange and she didn't like what he was hiding behind his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about anyway?" she demanded, "why do you want me to put on weight when you tried to put _Alex_ on a bloody _diet?"_

She froze for a moment as she realised Molly was across the other side of the barge and wondered what the poor girl would be thinking if she'd heard that comment. She would probably have to come up with some kind of excuse at a later date – for now she would have to work at not dropping her mother's name.

"I'm not talking about Alex, I'm talking about you," Keats told her. He reached out and began to run a hand down her side which caused her to scream and try to shuffle away.

"What _is _your problem?" she cried, "just trying to make people stay exactly as you remembered them? When you –" she trailed off. She didn't want to finish that sentence.

Keats raised an eyebrow at her hesitation.

"When I what, Kimberley?" he asked.

Kim stared at him. On the outside he was Layton, but the skin he lived within was a world apart from the way he conducted himself.

"What are you going to do now you've got me here?" she demanded.

"Use your imagination," Keats told her.

"And what about Molly?"

"Should be good for a few quid," Keats explained, "little bit of blackmail material. See the bearded one squirm for a while." He glared over at Molly. "Besides, the family resemblance is really quite uncanny, isn't it? Like having a little mini pet Alex all of my own." He turned back to Kim and leaned in close. "Where's Robin?" he asked pleasantly.

Kim frowned. She couldn't keep up with the conversation.

"What?"

"Where can I find him?" Keats asked, "I would like to offer him an invite to this particular party."

"I don't know, probably out looking for you," cried Kim.

"Come on, Kimberley, you can do better than that," Keats told her, "narrow this down a bit for me." He lifted his knife and examined the point. "Is he at the station? Round at Evan's? On the streets?"

"I wasn't working with him today, I have no idea," Kim hissed.

Keats looked at her face.

"You really _shouldn't_ go so overboard with the make up," he told her again, "you look like some sort of goth."

"I _am_ a goth," Kim narrowed her eyes at him.

Keats gave a deep sigh, got to his feet and wandered away for a moment, returning with a packet of baby wipes.

"Here," he said as he pulled one out and began to lean toward her, wiping the make up from her eyes. Kim immediately went into a state of shock, not from his actions but the fact the happened to have a packet of baby wipes lying around.

"What the hell are you doing with something like _that?"_ she demanded.

"I found them in a car," sighed Keats, scrubbing awkwardly at her make-up.

"_Whose_ car?"

"Evan's," said Keats, "he must use them to wipe stains from his beard."

That made Kim shudder more than anything else Keats had said or done from the moment he grabbed her in the alleyway.

"_Urgh!"_ She screamed, "Evan's beard wipers! Get them away from me! Get them off my face!"

Keats held her face firmly while he removed the make-up and slowly peeled back her outer image to reveal more of the Kim he knew from the nineties. The woman he couldn't even acknowledge his feelings for. The woman who'd found a way beneath layer upon layer of malevolence. He stared upon her angry expression and sighed.

"Come on, I'm trying to do you a favour," he told her, "don't want you mistaken for a member of The Addams Family."

"Get off me," Kim hissed. When he continued to wipe at her makeup she grew so angry that she knew she had to get him away through any means possible, no matter how stupid. She couldn't push him away, couldn't kick him, and as much as she tried he was too fast to let her bite him. Besides, she didn't really fancy the thought of sinking her teeth into Layton. She'd probably contract rabies that way. Finally, an idea came to her. Childish and puerile but it just might work.

She let one go. Silent but deadly. It took a moment for the stink to hit Keats's nostrils but the moment it did he retreated to a safe distance with a splutter and a look of abject horror across his face.

"_Disgusting!"_ he cried.

"Looking in a mirror again are you?" mocked Kim.

Keats flapped his hand around his nose for a moment and turned to glare at Molly who, despite her predicament, was clearly giggling beneath the gag.

"See how _you_ like it trapped in here with her stinking up the air!" he cried as he made to leave the barge. He glanced behind him just before he left and spat, "You wait, Kimberley. When the air clears I'll be back."

"Plenty more where that came from," Kim cried childishly but her bravado was fading and she didn't know how she was going to stave him off forever. She knew he'd be back soon enough - and angrier than before.

~xXx~

Robin shook his head as he watched his team returning with the dogs. They'd found three shoes, a large abandoned trout, a tramp pickling himself with vodka and a young couple getting it on in the bushes but no sign of Molly, or of Layton.

"No sign," he said as he approached March, "not even a hint. I'm calling off the search here for now, at least until we get some kind of sighting in the area."

"Can you get the dogs down to the park?" asked March, "someone thought they saw a suspicious figure hanging around the –"

"I'm supposed to be waiting for Kim," Robin interrupted. His mind had been on her all morning, "she was going to rejoin me here. Any sign of her?"

"She's with Fullerton," said March, "they're probably finishing up down there soon."

Robin sighed. He didn't want to head off elsewhere if Kim was going to be on her way.

"Radio in and check," he said.

"I'm not checking up on my DS."

"I'm not asking you to check up on your DS!" Robin cried, "you were the one worried about Kim coming on board without bloody _insurance!_ I feel responsible for her being on the case and I want to make sure I know where she is."

"Alright, alright," March frowned, "not like you're her big brother or something."

"Closest thing I've got to a sister," Robin told him, folding his arms.

March sighed.

"Fine," he mumbled, "not like I haven't got anything better to do."

Robin sighed as he watched him walk away. He knew he'd pissed him off good and proper but he didn't care, partly because he really didn't seem to like DI March for some reason and partly because he couldn't shake his fears about Kim. Something just didn't feel right, it hadn't done all day. He just needed to know if she was alright and then he could relax and get on with the job. Until then, his head felt as foggy as the woodland.

~xXx~

Kim turned her head as far as she was able and tried to look at the bound girl across the barge,

"Molly," she hissed, "Molly?" she could see the girl's eyes upon her, "are you alright? Has he hurt you?" She watched Molly shaking her head the best that she could. "Can you get your binds loosened?" Molly shook her head again. "Can you shuffle backwards?" she tried, "If you can get to the wall maybe you can untie the knot holding you to the boat."

Molly tried as hard as she could to shuffle backwards but the rate she was travelling at equated to about a centimetre a minute. She looked at Kim with her eyes narrowing in sadness.

"It's alright," Kim said quickly, "I know, it's hard." She drew in her breath and began working on shuffling across to Molly, trying to worm across with her knees bent and stretching alternately but she was making about as much progress as Molly herself. She gave a sign and a gasp of frustration. "OK, Molly, listen to me," she said in as calm a voice as she was able, "this man, the one who has brought us here," she couldn't bring herself to say Layton, she knew that wasn't true, but she couldn't exactly tell Molly the truth, "he's a very deeply disturbed man and he talks a lot of shit. I mean, _nonsense_," she cringed, unsure whether she was allowed to use language like that in front of a teenager or not. She supposed Molly probably used that word all the time behind Evan's back and decided it didn't really matter. "You mustn't take any notice of anything he says. Now, someone will know I'm missing and they'll be on my trail very soon. So someone will find us – we'll be fine. OK? _You'll _be fine."

Molly stared back but she didn't nod. Kim wished that she could offer something more than hollow words that didn't even make herself feel better, let alone Molly. Before she had the chance to even think of another way to comfort her the sound of footsteps approaching brought her more fear and caused her heart to race. She saw Keats's feet before the rest of him, his leisurely walk in her direction like a slow, elongated form of torture. When he finally arrived beside her he knelt down and held out to her a pair of scissors.

"Shall we see what we can do about that hair?" he whispered.

An absolute feeling of panic struck Kim. It hit her deep in the chest and brought a scream of unprecedented volume from her lungs.

He'd been serious. He'd been _totally fucking serious_. He wanted to turn her into the version of her he knew in the nineties. The version of her he'd lured into bed. The version of her he'd put through seven shades of hell. That was one of the reason she'd grown her hair in the first placed. The long dark hair and goth image had both been a big departure from her boyish, ladette look in Gene's world. To think of him taking that difference away from her, returning her to the woman he'd manipulated so cruelly, was to take away from her all the hard work she'd put into undoing the mental and emotional scars he'd left her with.

She wasn't afraid of getting hurt, but she was afraid of going back to those dark places in her head.

As he grasped her hair tightly in his hand she cried and screamed her way through cut after cut. He hacked away at her locks, stealing from her piece by piece the image she had created for herself over many years. Since awakening in 2003 aside from an occasional trim she'd never cut her hair. The longer it grew, the further she ran from 1995. Now here he was, the reason for hiding, taking that very same mask away from her.

Her sobs and anguished cries rang out through the barge with every chunk of hair that fell to the floor. His tight grasp on her hair began to loosen as there was less and less for him to hold onto until he snipped at the final chunk and let her cropped head fall to the ground.

She wailed and cried for mercy as he swept the hair from around her with his foot, then scooped down and held a clump in his hand. He held it close to his face and breathed in deeply, the scent of Kim on the cut locks sending his pulse rate soaring.

"I'll get some dye later."

Those 5 words felt as much of a threat as his knife as he got to his feet and left the barge, hair in hand. Kim could do nothing but lay and cry, desperately hoping for a way out.

It couldn't end like this. She'd fought too hard and for too many years for Keats to step in and take her life away from her. She had to have faith that someone would find them or she would find a way free, or even that Keats would mess up because, frankly, she wouldn't allow any other possibility to exist. Even at her most desperate, her lowest, the end of her hope she was still too bloody minded to let him win.


	14. Chapter 13: Parks, Paths & Playing Games

_**A/N: Please see the note at the bottom of the chapter of Something Changed that I have posted tonight for info about future updates x**_

**Chapter 13**

Robin could see it on his face. Before March said a word, he already knew. The DI walking towards him had his hands in his pockets, a furrowed brow and anxious eyes. The cold wind blew against Robin's body but he barely felt it. The worry that consumed him at that present moment rendered him numb from head to toe.

"What's happened?" he demanded.

March looked at him a little guiltily. He hesitated and then increased Robin's worry by adding an '_Um…'_ at the start of his sentence before going on to sheepishly inform him,

"My DS seems to have lost your friend."

"In what way '_lost her'_?" Robin demanded.

"There was a kid," said March as though that answered everything.

"I don't believe this story is going anywhere," Robin scowled.

"He hurled abuse at her and ran away," March continued eventually, "she started to chase after him and they haven't seen her since."

Robin stared at him, he seemed sheepish and worried. It made Robin swallow with nervousness.

"And no one's tried looking for her?" he asked.

"Well I would think they were all too busy examining the crime scene to worry about a disappearing ex-detective and a child with a foul mouth!"

"A crime scene caused by a dangerous and twisted criminal who Kim's had a life-threatening brush with before," Robin snapped crossly as he began to march away.

"What? Where are you going?" March started to trot after him.

"To radio her."

"She has her _own_ radio?"

"I gave her one before."

"Then why didn't you just radio her yourself instead of getting me to contact the scene?"

Robin spun around.

"Because I didn't want you ranting on about me not filling in all the paperwork and assigning a radio to someone not currently under insurance!" cried Robin, "now excuse me, I need to find out if she's OK."

March looked at Robin, aghast, genuinely horrified by the fact that he'd issued her a radio without signing the paperwork.

"I thought you were a by the book sort of man," he scowled.

Robin didn't have time for this.

"Funnily enough, so did I," he mumbled as he continued to pace towards his car. He lost March along the way somewhere, -most probably still shaking his head in disapproval - and he reached his car where he opened the door, slipped into the driver's seat and collected his radio. With an anxious tone in his voice he tried to get her attention. "Kim?" she had no code, no identifying number, "Kim, can you hear me?" He paused and waited for a response and when none came he tried again. "Kim, it's me – where are you? I'm worried shitless!"

When static was the only response that came from the radio his worries increased tenfold. If Kim had 'disappeared' then he had a feeling he knew the man behind it and he was not someone whose company she'd be wanting to keep.

He had to find her. That was for certain. Losing Kim was not an option.

~xXx~

Kim felt a terrible sense of dread as she heard Keats's footsteps enter the barge again. She watched as he crouched in front of Molly. She couldn't tell what he was doing until he barked,

"Here. _Eat."_

She made the correct assumption he was feeding her some kind of food. Her theory was proven to be correct when he threw something over his shoulder and a banana skin landed about three feet away from her.

"_You are a complete and total stupid evil bastard who smells like-" _Molly's voice was slightly muffled by Keats standing in her way and silenced quickly by a bottle of water pressed against her lips. Kim heard her drinking thirstily for a moment until the bottle was removed and she was able to finish her sentence – "_-elephant turds."_

"Charming," said Keats as he reapplied her gag.

"_Hey!"_ Kim yelled. She shook as she did so, but was desperate to get Keats as far away from the young girl as possible. She began to regret that decision as he turned around with a dark and evil glare.

"Yes? Kimberley?"

His tone was as dark as his glare.

"If you think I'm too skinny then where's _my _bloody snack?" Kim spat boldly. She wasn't sure riling him up was a good idea but it was all she could do to keep him away from Molly.

He slowly walked towards her, each stride seemed so long and torturous, until finally he stood right beside her.

"You want food?" he asked, "you'll have to earn that privilege."

"By doing what?" Kim snapped, "cooking my own? I'll get Robin to give me some tips. You'll know all about that since you scoffed his bloody leftovers!"

"No, by showing me some respect," Keats barked, "You're forgetting I'm still technically your superior officer."

"Bollocks you are," Kim hissed, "whoever you were back in the other place, here you're just a drug-addled twat with a chronic guilt complex!"

She knew she was going to be for it after that tirade but before Keats could say or do a thing a burst of static halted him in his tracks. His eyes fixed upon Kim in a terrifying glare before a voice came seemingly from thin air.

"_Kim, can you hear me?"_

Keats raised an eyebrow.

"Either you have secret ventriloquism skills that you've decided to display or you have a radio," he said.

"_Kim, it's me – where are you? I'm worried shitless!"_

"I can't believe I forgot to check your pockets," Keats tutted to himself as he knelt beside her, "I really must be out of practice." He leaned toward her and began to give her a frisking. "Now, let's see."

Kim struggled and yelled as he took far longer than necessary in searching her body and finally came up with a radio. He glanced from the radio to Kim then back again. "So it seems someone's looking for you," he said, "now, who's going to be that frantic? Hmm?" he stared at her, his eyes boring into her so deeply she had to look away. "Oh yes, has to be your best buddy pal, doesn't it. Robin. Cooker of lasagne, trainer of dogs, slayer of beards."

He stood upright and began to walk away, leaving an anxious Kim staring after him.

"What are you going to do?" she asked with fear.

Keats glanced back at her, scarcely feeling it was worth answering that question.

"Have some fun," he said quite simply, then he carried on walking until his footsteps faded from earshot.

~xXx~

Robin started to drive. He wasn't even quite sure he was going. He had some half-baked idea about heading to the crime scene and some other idea about trying the Falcon Building or Evan but primarily he just needed to be on the move, doing something, trying to find Kim. His anxiety was rising to a level he hadn't felt since the day Simon had his server accident. He couldn't get his thoughts straight.

When the radio crackled he thought it was his imagination at first, then he started to wonder if it was Kim and anxious relief began to arrive upon his shoulders, but a moment later a voice burst through and took any hint of relief away from him.

"Good afternoon, Robin," it said, "at least, I'm guessing this is who I'm speaking to?"

Immediately Robin found his foot on the brakes. He didn't even remember doing it, but there he was, screeching to a halt. His heart pounded and his mind raced. That was a familiar voice – Layton's voice - but the tone… the pattern of speech… and the language…

That was _not_ Layton.

His hand trembled as he reached for the radio. He could hardly bring himself to speak but he finally hissed,

"Where is she?"

There was a crackle, then a laugh.

"Which 'she' are you talking about?"

"_Kim,"_ Robin's voice became more fraught.

"Oh, so you're more concerned about someone who looks like an extra from _The Addams Family_ than poor little Molly," evilness crackled through the radio.

"Just tell me, is she still alive?"

There was a sigh.

"Alive, breathing, unleashing venom in my direction."

Robin tried to keep his cool but something seemed very strange, something beyond the initial issue of Kim being kidnapped. His tongue ran around his lips as he thought about Layton's words. Had he swallowed a dictionary or something?

"So tell me," he began, "what do I have to do to get her back? If there wasn't something you wanted then you wouldn't be talking to me now."

There was a strange laugh on the line.

"Very astute, Robin," Layton's voice said, "or whatever you're calling yourself now. _Chief Inspector Shoebury-Thomas?_ A promotion for someone who grooms dogs for a living."

"_Grooms do-?"_ Robin's fury was overtaking his anxiety. It was so strong he couldn't even finish his sentence. he took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. "Alright. Just tell me what you want. Is it money?"

"I want you to follow my instructions," the voice told him. "Go to the park on the west side of town. The south entrance. Big green gates. Park outside and make your way slowly to the caretaker's hut."

"What the hell? I don't know where the caretaker's hit _is!"_ cried Robin.

"It's green. It's marked Caretaker's Hut. You're supposed to be the chief inspector, use your inspecting skills."

Robin could hear his heart thumping. It sounded like some mid-nineties dance track. He swallowed and could hardly control his shaking limbs as he started the engine and began to drive again. His stomach turned over as a cold feeling of dread crept into his bones.

"And what exactly am I to do when I get there?" Robin asked.

"just go alone," The voice told him, "that's the first instruction. You'll hear more when you get there."

Robin muttered and mumbled to himself as he continued to drive. His fear and his anger were both burning up inside of him. He couldn't express the way he felt. As though Layton's actions in the past hadn't been enough now he had Kim and was playing stupid _games?_ This was ridiculous. He knew Layton was crazy but there was something strange in his words. It didn't sound like him. Not in the slightest. It was as though someone was feeding him words or borrowing his vocal chords. Had the _Layton-ithizer_ been invented yet for people who wanted to make their voice sound like Layton's? He didn't think so.

It felt as though it took forever to arrive at the park. Finally he pulled into the road alongside the south entrance, grabbed the radio and stepped cautiously out of the car. He looked left and right, then hurried into the park. He looked up and down and finally spotted a green hut a few paces away but as he ran to it he found nothing strange about it.

"Now what?" he barked into the radio.

"Have you found the hut?" the voice asked.

"Yes."

"What do you think of the colour?" the voice asked, "I mean, green seems a little over the top, when you think about all the green of the grass and the trees and the –"

Robin's mouth fell open. This was getting more ridiculous by the moment.

"Bloody gardener as well now, are you?" he cried, "what am I supposed to do next?"

There was a sigh on the radio. Obviously Layton was truly bothered about the colour of the hut.

"Alright. There's a little bumpy footpath to your left. Follow it all the way around until you reach a small gate."

Robin didn't have time to stop and think. His legs took him quickly down the path, all the way to the gate where he cried,

"I'm there, now what?" into the radio.

There was a little static, followed by;

"Leave the park. Go through the gate. Turn right and walk along the road until you find a blue car."

Robin's heart was in his throat, desperate for the games to end. He knew he should have called for back-up but he didn't even think about that at the time. It didn't even cross his mind. He only wanted to get to Kim and get her back safely. He ran through the gate, turned right and started running along the road.

"Can't see a blue car," he said crossly into the radio.

There was a pause.

"Oh, silly me," the voice began, "you need to go right to the end of the perimeter of the park and turn right again and _then_ you'll see the blue car."

Robin started to feel his heart sinking. This was looking less like some kind of ransom situation and more like a set-up but he'd come too far to stop so his feet pounded across the ground and he almost over-shot the end of the road before turning right and pressing onwards.

"Still no blue car!" he cried into the radio. There were two white ones, a black one, a silver one but no blue ones.

"Keep going," the voice told him.

"Going where?"

"Along the road."

Robin found tears starting to fill his eyes now. Desperate tears. He was being led on some wild goose chase and stuck in a situation he didn't know how to remedy. If he called fowl and refused to follow the instructions Layton could easily decide he was bored and simply shoot Kim. He'd had no qualms about shooting Alex when he grew tired of Evan's refusals to pay up. He found himself coming to the end of the other side of the park.

"Now what?" he cried.

"Turn right," the voice said, almost wearily by now.

Robin turned another corner. He ran along the road.

"_No fucking blue car!" _he screamed.

The voice paused. Then it chuckled.

"Oh dear," he said, "do you see a red one instead?"

As Robin ran, he _did_ see a red one. A familiar red one.

"That's _my_ fucking…" he didn't even finish that sentence. Fury boiled up inside of him. He'd been well and truly had.

"Oh yes, so it is," the voice told him, "oh well. At least you got some exercise."

With that the radio clicked and the conversation ended. Robin let out a cry of fury and frustration from somewhere deep within him. It was an animalistic noise, an animalistic reflex that he didn't even know he had in him. He'd never heard a sound like that come from his own body before. It felt almost as though it came from the pit of his stomach, like some kind of terrible anger had been unleashed. He ran to his car where the door still sat open and threw himself inside. He reached out to turn the key in the ignition, not sure what he was supposed to do next. Go to the station? Go back to find March? Organise a search? Wait for further contact?

The answer was none of the above. A blade to the neck answered the question for him.

"_Drive."_

One word.

Robin swallowed. He didn't dare move, didn't dare to turn around but in the rear view mirror a crusty face hid beneath a grey hood.

"Where?" his voice broke as the dreadful realisation of his predicament washed over him.

"Just start the car and I'll talk you through it," the crusty face told him. He seemed almost uninterested. Robin turned the key in the ignition and began to drive away.

"Where's Kim?" he asked, the question wouldn't leave his mind.

"Turn left at this crossroads."

"Is she alright?" Robin asked as he carried out the turning.

"Carry on driving to the next set of lights, then taker the right turn shortly after that." The sneering face ignored him.

"Is she at least alive?" Robin tried.

"Don't forget to take the right turning," his voice was calm and toneless.

"What about Molly? Is she alright?"

"You almost missed the turning then. Keep your concentration on the directions I'm giving you."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to keep driving to the roundabout and then take the road down to the riverfront."

"Do you want money? Contacts? More bribes?"

"The roundabout is coming up."

"For fucks's _sake_, give me something to work with here!" Robin's patience was wearing thin.

"How about the knife against your neck for a start?" Layton's tone changed quite suddenly. A venom filtered through. "Try working with that. There is a very fine line between life and death. As thin as the blade of a knife. Try respecting how close to the other side of the line you are right now. And that's not a line you'll be wanting to cross."

Robin gave a slightly bitter laugh. He could think of plenty he wanted to get to on the other side of the line.

"Oh yeah?" he spat.

"Yes," said Layton, "not with me right here, anyway.

Robin swallowed. He was nearing the river now.

"Can you just tell me one thing?" he whispered, "Kim… is she still alive?"

His eyes met Layton's in the mirror.

"Kimberley is fine," he said stiffly.

There was a jolt to his heart.

A terrible fear came over Robin. A fear he hadn't experienced in a very long time. He knew now. All those strange doubts, all those questions about Layton and why he was so different all of a sudden. He swallowed again, his mouth suddenly very dry and his voice breaking as he whispered,

"You're not Layton," his eyes met the man's in the mirror again, "are you?"

"Very well spotted, Robin," hissed Keats.

As Robin stared, just for a fleeting moment the eyes in the mirror changed and morphed. Layton's heavy, bloodshot eyes changed into one very deep, dark pair, staring deep into his soul. It made his stomach lurch and his heart stop in his chest with fear. He knew whose eyes they were, and he knew whose soul resided in a decrepit, evil body.. 

"_Keats,"_ he whispered.

Keats smiled through Layton's thin lips.

"Ten points to the man in the driver's seat," he said, "now, let's see if we can't make this all a little more interesting?"

Robin's hands trembled as he ran out of road and pulled to a halt. He could hear the river and see the grotty old barge.

"In what way, interesting?" he dared to ask.

"Interesting as in what you'll do to save your friend and spare your own soul from my grasp," Keats told him, "now move it. Out of the car."

A trembling Robin climbed from the driver's seat, Keats climbing from the back of the car and into the front to make sure Robin couldn't escape from him. The blade stayed trained against his neck while a hand grasped his arm

"What do you want from me?" Robin whispered.

"Let's start with your pizza recipe and go from there, shall we?" Keats stared and smiled malevolently.

Robin felt an all-consuming fear like he had never felt in his life. It almost wiped him clean off his feet. Survival would take nothing short of a miracle and, to be frank, those were in short supply.


	15. Chapter 14: Robin, Radios & Rude People

**Chapter 14**

Robin stood in the cold air, the knife against his throat. He stared evil right in the eye. Quite aside from the fear of the situation, the act of staring at one force of evil inside the body of another was quite unnerving. Both Keats and Layton were twisted, but in very different ways. The crumbling, drug-riddled body had little in common with the silver-tongued devil who now dwelled within.

"So," Robin swallowed and tried to speak but couldn't seem to raise his voice high enough. He cleared his throat and tried again, "now you've got me here, now what? What are you doing? Trying to build a collection? Going to start a museum? Holding an exhibition of _People Who Have Done You Wrong_? Though I don't know what you've got against Molly."

"Stupid little brat," Keats sneered, "just like a Mini-Mum. Hopefully I shall have time to fit in some blackmail before I have to leave. It would be nice to finally see the bearded one cough up a little cash."

"Leave?" Robin asked. He tried not to flinch as he felt the blade against his skin, "planning on going somewhere nice?"

"Somewhere looking in a mirror doesn't give me nausea," Keats told him, "this body isn't going to do me for long. I'm just having my fun and then I'll be leaving."

"Like a joyrider dumping the car," Robin commented.

"Yes, except I will be taking some passengers with me," Keats told him.

Robin froze. He stared at Keats, watching his eyes morphing back and forth. He shuddered deep inside.

"What do you mean?" he whispered.

"Oh yes, that's right," Keats began, "just as a little insurance policy there's the small matter of life with a burning backside to consider."

"Got piles?" Ro0bin asked. As soon as he said it a part of him regretted it. With a sharp blade against the neck it was one of the more foolish things he could have asked, but there was a part of him that wanted to laugh like crazy at the look on Keats's face. He felt as though he'd absolutely caught him off guard.

"Piles of burning coals, maybe," Keats said eventually, almost shaking with anger, "I want you to pay attention because what I'm about to tell you is exactly the same thing I told your buddy-buddy chum. If you put one step out of line I will sink this knife into your flesh and take your soul as soon as anything. And if I take you, your soul will be mine. You will be down for an eternity of hell. You will suffer every single day. And I can promise you, you will _never_ see Simon again. I'll hide you so far into the bowels of Fenchurch West that you'll think they forgot to build an exit." He peered at Robin as though talking to a naughty child. "Now, just to make this clear, in case you are tempted to try any kind of martyr-like heroics, if you try anything – anything at all – then after I've sent you on your way I'll be taking Kim to the very same place."

Robin stared at him defiantly.

"Well at least I'll have a friend," he said.

"She'll be too busy keeping my bed warm," Keats sneered.

OK, that was a step too far. Keats's threat triggered a fury Robin didn't know he was capable of. It seemed Keats's mission in life was to hurt _everyone_ Robin cared about – Simon, Kim, Alex –

Even Robin couldn't understand the primal urge to lash out and strike Keats that rose inside of him. He couldn't even think about what he was doing, his body reacted first and his brain followed a few seconds behind. The action was foolish considering the knife pressed to his skin but his reactions were so fast that they took Keats by surprise and in Layton's ailing form his response wasn't fast enough to stop the hand that grasped his and pushed the knife away.

In surprise, Keats let go of the knife. It flew over his shoulder and landed somewhere behind him. He didn't know quite what to do for a second and hesitated too long to avoid the hard punch that Robin threw his way. A sudden pain shot through his jaw and he felt himself falling backwards. Robin's strength had surprised him. He was not quite the weedy little pretty-boy he'd thought. Before he knew it, Robin was on top of him, hands to his neck. This wasn't part of the plan! None of this was in the fucking _plan!_ OK, so he'd been winging it for most of the time, the plan was vague – the general outline was to cause as much misery as possible in the shortest space of time. But if there was an _anti-plan_, a list of things that were definitely _not_ in the plan, then this would surely have been on it.

"Fucking _bastard!"_ Robin spat, pressing his thumbs to Keats's throat, "how many times does someone have to kill you, hmm? How many times do you have to fucking die? Got more lives than a bloody cat!"

Keats coughed and spluttered as the hands around his neck made breathing hard. How the hell had he let this happen? This wasn't the end, it _couldn'_t be, after all he'd already achieved some trumped-up dog trainer wasn't going to get the better of him. He pushed and he struggled and desperately tried to force Robin away. When that didn't work he did the only thing he could think of. The only thing certain to succeed. He brought his knee swiftly upwards and struck Robin directly in his unmentionables.

It wasn't enough to shake Robin's frenzied attack away from him but it was enough to cause his grasp on Keats's neck to lessen as the pain caught him and took his breath away. He couldn't practice mind over matter well enough to overcome the pain and Keats ripped his hands away. Before he could gather his thoughts, Robin found himself being thrown to the ground as Keats swung him sideways and pinned him there.

"Fancy your chances do you?" Keats spat at his face as Robin turned away to avoid his hot breath. "Think you stand a chance against me? You seem to forget this isn't a cartoon, Robin. You say I've got more lives than a cat – well, don't mistake this for a tom and jerry cartoon. The mouse isn't going to win this time."

His tone left Robin in no doubt who the 'mouse' was meant to be.

"You be careful what you call me," he hissed, pushing Keats roughly away and scrambling to his feet, "I've changed."

"So I can see," Keats began to pant a little. Layton's body wasn't cut out for this. "what happened to the quiet little boy, clinging to Simon's shirt tails?"

"He grew up," Robin hissed through clenched teeth, staring Keats right in the eye.

"Have you and Kimberley prepared this speech?" Keats cried, "I'm getting the same shit speech from both of y0u!"

"Then maybe you should stop asking stupid questions," Robin's eyes flashed with fury.

How the hell was he supposed to get out of this situation? How was he going to resolve this? He started to look around for the knife but Keats spotted him and luck was on his side as the knife was already by his feet. He swiped it up before Robin had a chance to stop him and allowed the light to glint against the blade. Robin froze where he stood. Did he risk a second attempt at grabbing it? Maybe run to the barge and hope he was faster than the clapped-out body Keats was possessing? Could he dive in the car and run the bastard over? He had a sinking feeling any one of those things would end up with the blade plunging into his stomach. He knew that a _slightly-kidnapped-but-alive_ Robin would have more chance of rescuing Kim than a _dead-and-whisked-off-to-Fenchurch-West_ Robin. He stared at Keats. His eyes seemed to morph again. It made Robin shudder terribly.

"So, do you want to tell me what kind of stupid little act that was supposed to be?" Keats demanded, "didn't you listen to a thing I said?" He could see Robin weighing up his options and wasn't going to let him have another shot at winning this one so he grasped him by the arm and brought the blade close to his neck again, "I'll give you one more chance. Try anything again and you _will_ be finding your throat cut."

"Ooh, another chance, special treatment from the devil dressed in mold," Robin spat sarcastically.

Keats stared at the squirming man in his grip, the fury in his eyes. He couldn't equate this Robin with the man he'd accosted on the bridge on a cold night in 1995. It unnerved him. He didn't feel completely certain about his plan any longer. Robin wasn't quite the easy captive he had been expecting him to be. He was a bit of a loose cannon. This was something Keats had not been anticipating.

"Get on the fucking boat."

Keats was out of sarcasm and witty comments. He'd used all of those up during the run-around. Now he just wanted to get Robin onto the boat and to deal with an urgent feeling that had started to creep over him. _Damn that bloody Layton and his crawling veins._

He half-pushed and half-pulled Robin down to the barge and slammed him through the doorway where he tripped and stumbled, a surprised gasp coming from across the dingy vessel.

"_Robin?"_

The sound of Kim's voice gave Robin an instance of sheer relief as he caught sight of her. His immediate response was to cry,

"Oh, thank _God!"_

It was only a second later though that he saw the state of her, her hair lopped off and left across the floor. As anger began to rise inside him again Keats grasped his arm and yanked him firmly across to the side of the barge where another rope was waiting.

"I had one of these left," he said, "saved it for you."

"I've had better presents," Robin hissed crossly.

Keats made an attempt at pulling Robin's hands behind his back to tie them together but Robin's left hand evaded his grasp. Like a child annoying their friend by holding an object just out of reach and constantly avoiding their attempts to grab it back he moved his hand wildly around, dodging Keats's attempts to grasp it. Keats chased the hand back and forth, round and round as Kim watched on in childish amusement. Robin knew it was a highly immature thing to do but it seemed to get the result he required and finally Keats gave an angry yell.

"Fine!" he cried, "since you seem to have no control over your hand I can easily make do."

He pushed Robin to the ground and pulled his right arm back severely until he cried out in pain, then tied the rope securely to his wrist with several knots and ran the other end of the rope down to his legs.

"What the fuck?" cried Robin as Keats pulled his legs up behind him to tie them firmly to the other end of the rope. "Are you trying to turn me inside out or something?" His whole body was arching backward at a highly uncomfortable angle, his arm and legs were now bound together. It seemed a completely ungainly way to tie someone up but it did the trick.

With a shove, Keats pushed Robin closer to Kim and completed the task by tying the end of both of their ropes together.

"There," he hissed, "since you two are _apparently inseparable_ now you might as well be tied together like a couple of conjoined gay twins."

Robin found himself face to face with Kim. Despite the horrible situation both of them were in just being there with her made him feel stronger.

"What is his problem with us being friends?" he asked, completely baffled by Keats's fixation on that factor.

"I don't know," Kim sighed, "I think he thinks we're shagging or something." 

"Sha- _eugh!"_ cried Robin.

"I know!" Kim agreed.

Keats watched them in anger and frustration as they started to chat amongst themselves. What the hell was going on? Why weren't they cowering at his words? These were the worst kidnap victims _ever._

"Not to interrupt a private conversation or anything…" he began angrily but Robin and Kim hadn't quite finished.

"He's off his rocker!" Robin declared.

"He keeps going on about that anti-beard thing we got invited to," Kim told him, "he's obsessed. Maybe he has a thing about Evan?"

"Shut the fuck up!" cried Keats, "close your flapping traps, and rest assured the next person to accuse me of having a beard fetish will get a knife right through the stomach!"

Robin and Kim finally stopped talking between themselves and looked at Keats. His anger had reached such epic proportions he was now an interesting shade of beetroot as the blood rushed to his face in fury.

"Can we help you?" Robin challenged. He knew he was skating on thinner and thinner ice but he just wanted to make sure Keats wasn't allowed to get the better of them, one way or another. It seemed that pissing him off was easier – and more enjoyable – than Robin had realised.

"I think you both need a time out," Keats scowled.

"Ooh, ten minutes on the naughty step?" Robin's presence had set Kim into the same frame of mind as she joined in the goading.

"I have something important to do," Keats spat, scratching at his arms with a maniacal motion that made Kim and Robin feel somewhat disturbed, "but when I get back you'll both think again about challenging me." He began to walk away hurriedly, his scratching becoming wilder with every step, leaving Robin and Kim to look at each other in confusion.

"Wow," Robin breathed, "I was expecting a bit more than that."

"So was I," Kim told him honestly, "Rob, I've no idea what's going on."

"How did this even _happen?"_ Robin's eyes were developing an urgent nervousness now as he stared at Kim, "how did he… I mean… it _is_ Keats. Isn't it?"

Kim nodded slowly, her eyes cast downward.

"It is," she whispered, "and I'm bloody terrified."

Robin saw her expression changing before him. The momentary bravado she'd experienced after his arrival was giving way to a dark fear; a fear born of memories from many years before, made in a whole different world. His heart sank to see it. With his free arm he reached out and slowly laid a hand against her arm. He saw a touch of a smile flicker onto her face but it didn't last for long as the worry overcame her again.

"Kim, it's going to be OK," he said, hoping he sounded more certain than he felt, "there's got to be a way out of these ropes. He's left my hand free, there's got to be one I can untie."

Before he had a chance to try, Keats's footsteps caused them both to freeze in fear. He re-entered the barge, looked around, spotted an object and walked it across to them.

"And here's some entertainment for you while I'm away," he said, setting the old radio he'd found beside them and switching it on.

"_He-e-e-e-e-ey…"_ the voice of a DJ came from the radio, _"and welcome back to another hour of cheesy music madness where we guarantee at least one Wham! hit an hour!"_

Two pairs of eyes opened wider than either owner had thought possible and stared at each other in terror.

"_No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!"_ Kim and Robin screamed at the top of their lungs.

They heard Keats laughing as he left the barge just as the opening bars of _I'm Your Man_ began to play. Their terrified screams rang out, scaring wildlife for miles around. Never before had two people felt so much fear, so suddenly. Being tied up on a deserted barge by a madman was one thing. Being tied up with _Wham!_ playing in the background was something else entirely.

A whole new level of hell had just opened up its gates and welcomed Robin and Kim with open arms.


	16. Chapter 15: Men, Memories & Mortality

**Chapter 15**

To Keats's horror he found himself trembling from head to toe as he pulled up beside the grotty old arches. He stared at his hands; _Layton's _hands, and watched as the bony, grimy fingers shook before him. His eyes darted to one side where two men were talking and sharing a joke by the look of it. Layton's mind told him that there was more than humour on tap from those two.

He opened the glove compartment of Robin's car and took out the knife he'd been using to great effect ever since his visit to Evan's house._ Two more lots of blood may join the collection on the blade, _he thought to himself. It depended how co-operative the two men were going to be. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his trembling limbs. Damn that body and its rotten compulsions. One more hit and then he'd get on with the plan in earnest. It had been fun, but it was almost time to go home. Not alone though – he had a new recruit in mind.

~xXx~

"Gah! It's no use!" Robin gave an angry growl of frustration as he thumped his free fist against the floor of the barge in anger. "I must have been trying for fifteen minutes, there's no way I can undo these knots with one hand. Keats must be an expert or something. Probably got a badge in it at the evil boy scouts. The kidnapping badge."

Kim stared at him as the last bars of _Too Shy_ played on the radio. It seemed that even aside from the one _Wham_ hit an hour their playlist was 100% cheese. She felt her pulse rising as she finally voiced the question that she'd been trying to gather the courage to ask.

"God, Rob, how the hell did Keats manage to get back here?"

Robin swallowed as he looked at her, wishing he knew the answer to that. He shook his head slowly.

"You'd know better than I do," he said, "you were in ninety five a long time, did anything happen while you were there?"

Kim breathed deeply.

"I remember he was in a coma for a while."

"What?"

"After Alex went back," Kim continued, "the car crash. He was comatose for months." She developed a far-away look in her eyes. "Oh, they were happy days…"

"What car crash?" asked Robin.

Kim hesitated for a moment. She hadn't even realised until then how little she'd shared of what went on at Alex's return. It was true that she remembered only the bare bones of the situation, her shooting at the hands of Keats in 1995 coupled with how long ago the whole thing had happened meant that she didn't remember a lot of the details but she'd also been aware not to spill very much to Alex because she wasn't sure whether she could handle it. She looked at Robin and saw the fear in his eyes. She took a deep breath.

"It's how Alex got home," she said quietly, "I think."

"You mean… you mean when Alex and I crashed with Layton?" Robin frowned.

Kim shook her head.

"No, Rob, in ninety five," she said quietly.

Robin felt his heart sinking. _Physically _sinking. It felt as though it settled somewhere underneath his stomach. He looked at Kim, her eyes seemed a little nervous and reluctant, almost as though she wasn't sure what to say.

"What do you mean?" he whispered.

Kim glanced across the boat at Molly. The last thing she wanted to do was to talk about the girl's mother. Molly already had suspicions about how Robin and Kim really knew Alex. But the girl was still and silent as opposed to the constant scrambling and struggling she'd been doing from the moment Kim had arrived and it looked as though she'd fallen asleep through sheer exhaustion. Keeping her voice low, but loud enough for Robin to hear her over _The Look Of Love_, she said;

"Alex and Simon were chasing Keats. There had been a confrontation on the roof of Fenchurch West and then I was shot… everything after that, I only know what Simon told me."

Robin swallowed.

"I'm already getting a sense of de ja vu," he said.

Kim flinched. She'd been keeping the parallels to herself for weeks.

"Keats spun out of control. I think it was something to do with the brakes. There was a crash and Keats went into a coma, while Alex…." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't remember that well, Robin. It was a long time ago, and everything's a bit hazy around that time."

Robin swallowed.

"Just try," he breathed, his heart starting to race.

"Simon said he pulled her from the car," Kim's voice shook as she spoke, feeling like she'd slipped into auto-pilot. It was as though she had to detach herself to be able to talk about it. "He didn't know what to do. He thought about trying to do first aid, but didn't know any. And then he…" she made a slight gesture with her head, "you know. _Did what they do."_

"What do you mean, what they do?"

"You know," Kim hated having to spell it out, "when they…. _Help others_. To move on."

Robin was looking at her blankly.

"No, Kim, I don't know," he said. He waited for her to explain but she stayed quiet. "Come on, Kim, I was in ninety five for _three days_ – you were there a year! All I know is what you told me and what was in Simon's letter."

Kim felt a little sick. She hadn't thought about the ins and outs of Gene's world for a long time, let alone spoken about them. She bit her lip.

"Simon and Alex and Gene," she began quietly, "it's what they do. When people are ready… to move on. When they've had a chance to live their lives. Face their demons."

Robin wasn't sure he liked what Kim was saying.

"But what about Alex?" he asked, "How did Simon… 'help' her?"

Kim gave a deep sigh. She hated thinking back to that time of her life.

"Sometimes," she began, her voice wavering, "they were in the right place, at the right time to help them on in a different way. When they died."

Robin could barely speak.

"You can _die _in that place?"

Kim nodded.

"And they help people to move on when they die. Their souls."

"But Alex," Robin still didn't understand.

Kim looked at him with an intensity in her eyes he'd never seen before. It shook him deep inside.

"She had no pulse," she whispered, "she wasn't breathing. She was dead, Robin, and Simon didn't know what to do. Then he felt it." She hesitated as he stared, "her soul."

Robin turned as white as a sheet from heads to toe. A terrible coldness filled his body.

"What do you mean, _her soul?"_ he whispered.

Kim wished she didn't have to explain this. She had no idea how to put it into words.

"Simon hated it," she whispered, "he hated what he had to do. He didn't want the job. Didn't want what came with it. It can't be a nice thing to do."

"_What_ can't?" Robin desperately wished she would stop beating about the bush and just tell him.

"I guess what happened with Alex was the same as the other times they had to help someone move on." She whispered, "he'd have pulled her onto his lap… held her head in his arms, and felt it. Felt the energy. Felt her starting to rise. And then there was -"

"- A tingle..." There was a lump somewhere between Robin's chest and this throat. It wouldn't go anywhere. Every hair stood on end along the back of his neck and every muscle in his body froze. He tried to swallow but his mouth was so dry he could barely manage it. He was surprised to find himself shaking. He could feel Kim's eyes focused upon him but couldn't quite bring himself to look at her, "..that starts in the hands."

"Robin?"

Kim's one word was as loaded as a whole barrage of questions. Robin tried again to swallow but the lump in his throat wouldn't budge and his voice grew more strained as he whispered.

"And the heat. Around your heart."

Kim felt a shudder through her spine. She swallowed as she stared at the haunted look on his face.

"Robin, what -?" she wasn't sure how to finish her sentence. She wasn't even sure what she was asking.

As though waking from a dream, Robin shook himself and realised what he'd said. He wished he could take that back, the words he'd kept to himself, the strange memories he'd played over and over in his mind since that fateful day out on the road; Alex, Layton, the crash… he closed his eyes and tried to swallow back the anxiety that he was feeling. There was no taking it back. The only way out was to cover it up.

"So…. So what happened with Alex," his words slurred as he tried to force them out quickly.

"Robin –"

"After Simon…. After he let her go?"

"_Rob…"_

Robin's brow furrowed with distress. He wasn't ready to deal with this yet.

"Please just tell me Kim," he whispered.

Kim hesitated. She felt anxious from Robin's strange words and his nervous manner but she knew this wasn't the time to push it. She took a deep breath and explained;

"Alex… Alex was dead. Her _body_ was dead. Simon isn't sure what happened next. Gene appeared from nowhere, walked away with her and when he came back she was breathing again. Gene never talked about it. I don't even know if he told Alex. That's all I know." She closed her eyes for a second. "But whatever happened… all that energy flying around… what if Keats got caught up in it somehow? What if, when Alex travelled back to ninety five, Keats somehow caught a lift in the other direction?"

"And found a weakened body with a weedy soul that was in no condition to fight him away," Robin finished, shaking.

Kim nodded a little.

"That's all I can think of," she whispered.

"What about Layton?" Robin asked, "did he go to ninety five?"

Kim shook her head.

"No," she said, "Keats woke up eventually. Unfortunately." She gave a deep sigh. "He was never quite the same after his coma. We all thought he'd finally flipped. Kept talking about how he'd been on a _lovely holiday. _Kept gloating and trying to wind Simon up."

"Simon?" Robin frowned, "what about?"

Kim sighed.

"He just kept saying things like _I know something you don't know_, and making out he had some kind of deep insight. To be honest he just sounded like he'd lost the plot and everyone ignored him. He kept making out he had all this information but he was being so annoying and cryptic about it that everyone was fed up with him and just thought he was being a twat."

"What kind of information?" frowned Robin.

"To this day I don't know," Kim shook her head, "but at least now I know_ how _he apparently got the 'information'."

Robin tried to take it all in. It seemed like a ridiculous situation.

"What the hell could he have found out that he'd be winding Simon up about?" he frowned, "did he find something at my flat? Simon's old underpants or something?"

Kim frowned.

"Now I'm worried about what kinds of underpants he has," she shuddered.

"There was one pair with the old _Thames TV_ logo on it, but other than that pretty standard," said Robin.

"It wasn't just Simon he wound up," Kim continued, "it was _mostly _Simon but…" she sighed again. "He used to make strange buzzing noises at Alex, like the worst bee impression ever."

"He – _what?"_ Robin frowned, "are you sure he _wasn't_ just insane?"

"I don't know," said Kim as some awful _Wet Wet Wet_ monstrosity began to play on the radio, "maybe. Maybe he enjoyed a little too much of Layton's favourite sherbet dip while he was over here."

"_Over here,"_ Robin repeated, "you really _are_ making it sound like a holiday." They both gave a slight laugh, neither really finding much humour in the situation but feeling a little comfort through at least being there together.

Kim licked her lips. She would have done anything for a few sips of water right then. Her mouth was as dry as sandpaper and her stomach ached with hunger.

"When the hell is he coming back?" she hissed, starting to shiver a little from the cold.

"You _want_ him to come back?"

"The longer he's away, the more chaos he might be causing," Kim pointed out.

Robin nodded slowly. He could see how that would be possible.

"Shit, how the _hell_ did any of this even begin?" he hissed, "and why has no one thought to check the bloody barge?"

"I suppose there have been so many sightings that they're checking the places they know he's been as a priority," Kim sighed, "this whole place is deserted – no one's seen him around here."

"Shit," Robin sighed. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the music that was destroying his will to live. Some of Kim's words played through his mind again. Thoughts of Simon and a car crash made him swallow and shake. He remembered that moment, out on the road; the sound of a car horn and the smell of petrol. For a moment, just a split second, Simon had been there beside him – or he had been there beside Simon.

_I was there,_ his mind screamed to himself, _I WAS there. I don't know how, but I crossed over, just for a moment._

For a second he'd been there beside Simon. He'd been with him again, breathing the same air, staring into his eyes.

So why the _fuck_ couldn't he just hold on?

_Shit._

~xXx~

Keats swallowed hard as he approached the two men. He watched one of them nudge the other and nod in his direction. What was that supposed to mean? He wasn't sure. He tried to keep his expression neutral as he approached them but with Layton's sweaty, trembling body around him it wasn't easy. Finally he reached their side. They were both taller than he was. Well, taller than Layton anyway. He tried to speak but his voice wouldn't respond. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"W-what have you got?" he asked, feeling like an idiot.

"What have I _got?" _one of the men turned to him. He reached into his pocket and fumbled around as though trying to locate an item, "well, _I've_ got –"

Before Keats knew what was happening the man withdrew a small object from his pocket and quickly flicked out a sharp blade. It glinted in the streetlight as it began to warm up above them. Keats wasn't sure he'd ever felt such a deep sense of fear before in his life. Or what he ever would again. All he knew for certain was that the look on the faces of the two men left him in no doubt where he would be heading in the next few moments.

Back to where he'd come from – without a souvenir.


	17. Chapter 16: Dark Eyes & Dedications

**Chapter 16**

Keats swallowed as the knife came closer to his throat.

"No need for that," he said a little breathlessly.

"No _need?"_ the man with the knife at his disposal grasped Keats by the shoulder and pulled him so close that Keats could smell stale coffee on his breath, "after what you've done?"

"What _I've -?"_ Keats hoped that stalling for time would buy him a way out but it only served to rile the men up further.

"Orders have gone out," the second man hissed, "about a sick dog that needs putting down."

"Sick?" Keats hissed.

"Got to be sick to slip the big man's woman something that turned her stone cold," the man with the knife told him.

"What?"

"See, doesn't matter what Vicky was supposed to have been or why she was with him," the second man sneered, "fact was, he loved her. "

"So what was it?" the first man asked, "rat poison? Something you nicked from a vet?"

"I don't know what you're…"

"And then you come along and kick the shit out of one of his favourites? Salesman of the month. Not really endearing yourself to the man, are you?"

"To _what_ man?" Keats demanded in fear.

"Nick Nailer," the first man told him.

Keats froze and his heart sank. He'd had dealings with Nailer of his own. It seemed Layton wasn't his flavour of the month either. _Shit._

"Maybe we can talk about this?" he asked hopefully.

"Glad to," the man held the knife against his neck, "we'll talk about how long you'll be roasting in hell for."

Something about those words brought a flash of fire back to Keats. Where Layton's bloodshot eyes lad lain a moment earlier, his own dark ones burst through with a burning anger. Something was happening to him and bringing him a strength and fight.

Maybe this wasn't going to be as cut and dried as the two men had thought.

~xXx~

Robin groaned as _I Ran_ came to an end on the radio and the next _Wham_ song began.

"Brilliant," he mumbled, "fucking brilliant! Like we needed to hear _Club Tropicana_ for the second time!"

"I thought there was supposed to only be one _Wham_ song an hour," Kim whimpered.

"They said at least one," Robin corrected.

"Bugger." Kim felt defeated. She stared at Robin. She didn't know how much time had passed by now, it felt like hours. It had been seven _Wham_ songs worth, but that was no guide now she'd found out there could be several an hour. They'd tried just about every tactic they could think of to untie, break or sever the ropes but they'd failed every time. Even with Robin having one free arm there was little he could do. It was dark outside by now and very little light was cast into the barge.

Kim shuddered as she watched Robin's worried expression. The cold was creeping into their bones by now and the lack of food and water was weakening them mentally and physically. Kim wished, not for the first time, that she'd had more than toast for breakfast that morning. She would have given anything for a nice, greasy fry-up. In fact, she considered frying Robin.

Just as she started hallucinating that he was a giant rasher of bacon, his voice brought her out of her food-related fantasy.

"Kim?"

"Hmm?"

Robin looked downcast.

"I should never have called you," he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"You shouldn't have even been on this case," Robin shook his head slowly, "I got you into this."

"I got myself into it," Kim corrected, "I volunteered to come. I chased that idiot kid when I should have known better."

"No one could have known what was lurking around the corner," Robin reminded her.

"Yeah, exactly – so stop blaming yourself," Kim admonished him.

Robin heard the scuttling of a creature across the other side of the barge. A rat maybe? Or a mouse? Something with more scruples than Keats, either way. He listened reluctantly to the sound of _Wham _for a few moments before he asked,

"Are you OK?"

Kim gave a tiny smile.

"Listening to _Wham _on a deserted barge with half the rodent population of London," she said, "it's my dream come true,."

"Your hair," Robin reached out very gently and touched it. He felt an enormous sense of guilt as she recoiled and shuddered and he wished he'd never touched it. "Sorry Kim, I'm sorry, so sorry," he said quickly, "I just… did he hurt you?"

Kim shook her head slowly.

"No," she whispered.

"What the hell did he do this for?" Robin whispered. He reached out again and touched her cut locks, "why did he -?"

Kim didn't flinch this time but her eyes began to look tearful.

"I don't know," she said bitterly, "he's gone crazy, Rob. Kept trying to make me look like I looked in the nineties. He took all my bloody make up off too." She tried to turn her head away a little as though she suddenly felt self-conscious. "He was going on about me being too skinny. I thought he was going to start feeding me pork pies or something."

"Too _skinny?"_ Robin frowned.

"I guess this is where you tell me I'm fat?"

"Oh, nice turn around!" cried Robin, but he saw her giving a weak smile.

"Seriously, Robin, I was a bit… _bigger_ in ninety five. Too many take-aways and pints. He wants me to look exactly like I did when he knew me. When he," She trailed away. She didn't want to finish that sentence.

Robin cleared his throat. He didn't want to ask this, but the question had been burning on his mind for weeks. He looked at her seriously and whispered,

"Kim? What happened with Keats when you were in the other place?" Immediately he regretted asking, the look on her face almost broke his heart. "Oh God, I'm sorry…" he bit his lip hard. "It's just… it's just, I know a _little_ but I didn't like to ask… but now that he's over here, I feel like I need to know. Like it could be important. We need to work out what his plan is so that we can make sure he doesn't get away with it and all we have to go on is what he's done in the past."

Kim felt her face reddening, thankful that the darkness would mask it. She felt ashamed and embarrassed by what happened between herself and Keats in Gene's world. Although Keats and his strange blend of gas and air and hypnosis were to blame for much of what occurred she knew that if she hadn't been so easily led and hadn't been enjoying her wild nights and alcohol so much then it may never have had a chance to happen.

"He did what he does best, Rob," her voice was hardly audible above the music, "caught me when I was down. At my lowest point. Tried to sell me the world. Made me feel like he was the only one who knew I was different. Like he was the only one who could help me get home. Plied me with alcohol with an extra special ingredient. Put me under a spell." She found herself exhaling forcefully as she thought about it and all the bitterness and anger started to come back to the surface. "The bastard knew just what to do. Planted himself in my mind. Somehow he made me…" she flinched, the memories still so painful, "made me _want_ him. It wasn't what he did to me physically, it was what he did to my head. That's what I still can't come to terms with, Robin. Not even now."

Robin watched her fragile expression with a lump in his throat. He was so used to seeing Kim as strong, fun, bright and happy – this was a different Kim and heart-breaking to see. It brought to mind a weak Alex on the run from Evan, at the mercy of nightmares about the same man. He shuddered to think of it.

"How long did it go on for?" he whispered.

"It went on for months," Kim said shakily, "every time I tried to break away he made more promises and stared at me with those dark eyes, trapped me again. Caught me in his stare." Her eyes glistened with tears. "I realised he was bullshitting me after a while. I knew I was never going to get home, but I couldn't break free. And then it all kicked off when you and Simon came to ninety five."

"Kicked off?" Robin was almost afraid to ask how.

"Simon let some stuff slip," Kim explained, "I realised he was like me. Knew he was from another time. I told Keats that it was over, I wasn't helping him any more, that someone else could help me home. He didn't like that." She closed her eyes. "left me tied and gagged on my bed. I was there more than a day when Simon and Malcolm found me. Just after that came the whole bloody showdown." She couldn't bring herself to think any further. The miscarriage was still too raw and painful to bring up. She felt herself shaking as the memories threatened to come forward.

Robin didn't think it was possible to hate Keats any more than he already did, but it seemed there was no limit to that man's depravity.

"Bastard," he mumbled under his breath as the DJ came on the radio.

"_Hey, what a great selection we've had this last hour!" _he said,_ "but we've got one more dedication from earlier to fit in before we head to the news. This one's from Jim and it's going out to Robin!"_

Instantly Robin froze and his eyes bolted. They turned to Kim in fear, her own reflecting his anxiety.

"What the hell?" she whispered.

"_Jim says he hopes you're enjoying your cruise, and here's an old favourite to stir up those memories!"_

The very first note that played made Robin's heart stop dead in his chest. The following notes brought a terrible sense of nausea throughout his stomach and his chest. All at once his head felt as though it was going to explode with the trauma and the pain. How could one song bring back such horror and revulsion?

"Rob?" Kim's voice was loaded with fear. She'd never seen that look upon his face before. It made her start to panic. "Robin, what is it?"

A thousand terrible flashbacks bombarded him all at once as his body began to shake uncontrollably. Even now, after so many years, such a long fight and all he had been through he still couldn't get rid of that terrible connection.

_#…And she pours herself another cup of coffee_

_As she contemplates the stain across the wall_

_and it's in between the cleaning and the washing_

_That's when looking back's_

_The hardest part of all… #_

The lyrics sparked a distant memory in the depths of Kim's mind. It made her freeze as she tried to place it; one October evening in _Bask_, Simon as the stranger who had arrived that day, the song that started to play and Simon's reaction, his pained expression and the panic in his voice. The conversation played through her mind;

_"It's a trigger."_

_"What?"_

_"This song. It's a trigger."_

_"A trigger? For what?"_

_"I have to find Robin,"_

Kim didn't know what kind of a trigger the song represented to Robin but whatever it was he was in some very deep level of despair right then and Kim had never seen him like that before. Tied up, trapped and unable to escape the music, he was diving headlong into a meltdown and all Kim could do was to watch him crumble.

~xXx~

Suddenly the knife to his throat didn't seem like such a threat any more.

The stupid idiot's words had brought to Keats a burst of determination and wickedness that had been pushed away by Layton's dependency and weakness. A hint of a smirk came to his face and he turned his head toward the man with the blade.

"Roasting in hell," he echoed the man's earlier words, "interesting choice of phrase. Not me who'll be sizzling though."

As the man stared at him a strange metamorphosis began to take place. Around the dark eyes that had already displaced Layton's, smoother skin and stable features began to appear. The physical changes gave the man such a shock that he gave an audible gasp and drew back long enough for Keats to grasp his arm and wrench it away so hard that the man's elbow came out of its socket.

The scream that he gave brought the second man into action, lunging at Keats who aimed a fast, firm punch in his direction and sent him reeling backwards. As the first man made some kind of attempt at overriding the pain and coming back after Keats he found a foot kicking him sharply in the shin and a punch to the guts. Before either man could respond Keats drew his own knife from his pocket and grasped the first man by his collar. Hauling him closer, he held the knife to his neck.

"Well well, isn't this an interesting turn of events?" he sneered, "What's that about _what goes around comes around?"_ He gave the second man a warning glare. "Your wares, gentlemen." He saw the second man's hesitation and set his deep, dark eyes into a sterner glare. "I haven't got all night!"

With shock and reluctance the second man pulled from his coat a few packets of Layton's favourite illegal wares. Keats let go of the other man and snatched them in an instant, then ran like the wind back to Robin's car. He didn't want to outstay his welcome – he'd already taken a big enough risk and he'd managed to get what he came for. Throwing himself into the seat, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His familiar features were starting to fade away and Layton's crumbling face was back in its place but just for that moment he'd seen his true self, right there, in all his glory.

What did that mean? How was that possible? Was he overriding Layton somehow instead of… _sharing bandwidth?_ If so why couldn't he override that damn compulsion?

The drugs were calling him, and two angry men were running toward the car. He knew he had no choice but to get out of there and move on to the next step. The next phase. His mind ran over what the two goons had said about Nailer. So Layton was the one who gave Victoria the dodgy drugs? His mind travelled to the flame-haired DI back in Fenchurch West, the one he'd treated with such venom. He'd have something to say to her about this when he got back, that was for certain.

For now, he needed to get the fire into his veins again, and then hurry things along. With Nailer's men on his trail the game was coming to an end and he still had a few eager moves to make.

~xXx~

_# …And she always did her best to try and please him_

_While he always did his best to make her cry_

_And she got down on her knees to stop him leaving_

_But he always knew one day he'd say goodbye… #_

Kim came close to panicking herself as Robin's face was racked with pain and his broken voice whispered; _"No, no, no, no,"_ again and again. As tied and stuck as Robin was she could do little to help him. Her mind went back to a _how to calm your customers when they freak out at the sound of the tattooing needle_ course she'd attended some years previously. Mike and the Mechanics was slightly more disturbing than the sound of the needle whirring away but it was the same principle.

"Rob," her voice was clear, defined and compelling, "Look at me." She tried to catch his eye but his panic was gripping him firmly and keeping his gaze unfocused and distant, "Robin, look at me_. Look at me,"_ she raised her voice, almost sounding angry and finally got his attention. Panicked eyes met her own and she held his stare, "OK, listen to me. Just listen to my voice," she spoke loudly and constantly, trying to drown out the sound of the music, "just concentrate on me, don't let anything else in, OK?" she felt a bit stupid and wondered if she was making a fool of herself but it was all she could do. "Block it out, Rob. Look at me and _listen_ to me, OK? Don't let it get in your head." She recalled advising customers to listen to the music rather than the sound of the needle. Maybe it worked the other way around?

_#...Where are your friends_

_Where are your children_

_Is this your house_

_Is this your home_

_Does nothing ever last forever_

_Does everybody sleep alone…#_

"I want you to think about your tattoo," she told him firmly. His eyes flashed with confusion but her distraction had stopped his shaking so she knew that she was doing some good. "Remember when you got your tattoo, Robin? The sound of the needle, the feeling against your skin?" she watched him give a tiny, juddery nod. "Remember the first moment you feel the needle against your shoulder. What did it feel like?" He stared on, unsure what he was supposed to do. "_Talk_ to me, Rob. What did it feel like?"

Robin swallowed, his head torn between flashing back to the horror of his mid-teens or focusing on Kim. He cleared his throat.

"Sore," he whispered.

"Sore?" Kim repeated.

Robin nodded again, struggling to get his voice in gear.

"It wasn't like pain… it was sort of sore," he whispered.

"So focus on that," Kim stared at him firmly, "remember the feeling of the needle going back and forth against your skin. Can you feel it?"

There was a tiny part of Robin that felt very, _very_ silly for going along with it. But there was a bigger part of him that trusted Kim completely and knew that this was the only way to cope. He closed his eyes and nodded.

"Yes," he whispered, his mind replaying the sensation of Kim working the ink beneath his skin.

"Can you smell the ink?" she asked, "hear the needle?"

Robin nodded again and swallowed.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Good," Kim found herself shaking as she watched him. If there had ever been a more intense, more terrifying time of her life then she sure as hell couldn't remember it.

_#...And he tears the business tags from his old suitcase_

_As he packs away the pieces of his life_

_They all love him but they always try to change him_

_That's what happens when a girl becomes a wife…#_

"Think about the needle, Rob," she urged him, "how did it make you feel? How did it make you feel to get the tattoo? How did you feel when you knew your skin was going to be decorated forever?"

Robin swallowed. While he was aware of what was happening in the background and knew why Kim was talking to him in that way he could no longer hear the music. pot really. All he could hear was Kim's voice and – in his mind - the sound of the needle.

"Strong," he whispered, his pulse rate up high, "powerful."

He opened his eyes again and found Kim still staring at him with great intensity.

"Did you feel different afterwards?" she asked, the strength in her voice dropping just a shade.

He stared back at her and nodded.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Different how?"

Her questions were changing now. No longer did they serve to simply keep him distracted from the music. Now they were things that she genuinely wanted to know; things that her curiosity about him were demanding the answers to.

"I felt stronger," he whispered, swallowing as he felt himself shaking for a whole different reason, "I felt," his voice cracked, "like I was in control of my own life for the first time."

_#...And she pours herself another cup of coffee_

_As the pictures leave a clean space on the wall_

_and it's in between the leaving and the loving_

_That's when looking back's_

_The hardest part of all…#_

Robin's words seemed so strange to Kim. It seemed like a bizarre thing for a thirty year old man to say. She stared at him, seeing a mixture of emotions flashing through his dark eyes.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

"I always stayed in the shadows," Robin whispered, "let other people take the lead. Did what was expected of me." He felt his heart jumping as he recalled all he'd been through in the last year. "I'm different now."

Kim could see that. She could see the world of difference from the crumbling man she'd delivered a letter to in New Year's Eve to the man who'd sat in her black leather chair, the needle pressed against his skin. She nodded slowly.

"Yes," she whispered, "you are."

_#...Where are your friends_

_Where are your children_

_Is this your house_

_Is this your home_

_Does nothing ever last forever_

_Does everybody sleep alone?...#_

Although Kim stopped talking the music barely registered to Robin as the end of the song played away. Thinking about everything from his time in '95 onwards – helping Alex, tracking Layton, his friendship with Kim, the arrival of Keats – he could hardly comprehend how much things had changed. He closed his eyes as he focused again on the memory of the needle on his skin. _Empowering._ That was a word so often overused by society but it was true. It gave him a sense of the inner strength he'd only just started to find.

_#...Don't look back_

_Don't give up_

_Pour yourself another cup_

_Don't look back_

_Don't give up_

_Pour yourself another cup…#_

The music came to an end and a cheesy DJ started to waffle instead. As though waking from a spell, both Robin and Kim stared at each other, trembling and breathing heavily. Both felt drained, exhausted from the intense moment that passed between them, unsure how they were supposed to recuperate from that. Robin's lips felt very dry. No matter how many times he ran his tongue around them they never seemed to become any the less so. He tried to clear his throat but it felt heavy and choked with emotion.

"Thanks, Kim," he managed to choke out between jagged breaths. He knew there was a tear falling from one eye but he didn't move to wipe it away. He felt a little numb and couldn't really feel it roll down his face anyway. He swallowed. "God, I'm… I'm sorry… I'm…"

Kim shook her head quickly.

"No, no, don't be sorry," he hissed urgently, "please, Rob, don't waste time apologising for something way out of your control." She stared at him, "_please._ Just…" she found her lips were dry too. The moment had left her almost as much as a wreck as the music had made of Robin. "Just tell me… tell me what that song meant to you. Can… can you tell me that?"

Robin felt a lump swelling in his chest as he thought about that terrible day. It had been so long since he'd spoken about it. He wasn't even sure if he could bring himself to speak those words. But if there was one person who could coax it out of him, it was Kim.

"It was my reason for going back to ninety five," he whispered. He swallowed. "And the reason…" he took a deep breath, "the reason why I've changed."

~xXx~

Pure, unrivalled ecstasy.

The feeling as the drugs invaded every inch of his body and sent his mind reeling overwhelmed Keats again. He sat back against the wooden hut in the dark, desolate park and let the feelings wash over him. He lost track of time, had no idea how long he had been there for when he decided it was time to move on. Just because no one was around for now didn't mean he'd have the park to himself all night. At some point there'd be some lonely jogger or desperate mutt dragging its owner along.

It was with some reluctance at first that he returned to Robin's car and sat in the driver's seat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two photographs which he stared at in turn. The first was the picture he'd rescued from his old flat before setting off on his Evan-hunting mission; the photograph of his parents, the one picture he had of them. The good-for-nothing father he knew nothing of and the mother he'd doted upon, dragging out of him the one ounce of sentimentality he had in his body. He pushed the photo back into his pocket and studied the second picture, the one he'd stolen from Robin's flat from the anti-beard event; Kim and Robin, less than impressed with their awards or with the whole anti-beard movement in general. His blood started to boil over again as he thought about the unlikely friendship and the hatred he was building against Robin.

In a moment of fury he ripped the picture in two and scrunched up Robin's half without hesitation, throwing it out of the window and turning his attention back to Kim's image. The picture showed her with the long hair he'd done a hatchet job on just a few hours earlier. His fingers traced the line of her body. For so much of the day he'd been focused on the hate and the chaos. Now there was another part of him that was making its hunger known. He couldn't fight them any longer, the feelings for Kim that he tried over and over to hide. He found himself literally salivating as he stared at her picture.

Now he knew Nailer had set the drug dealing population of London on Layton his time was running out. There were three things he still wanted to achieve before he left, anything more than that would be a bonus. One was some form of revenge on Robin for being the one person who'd ever resisted temptation. One was to pick up an unwilling passenger to take back and recruit into Fenchurch West. The third?

The third, quite simply, was Kim. To be with Kim. To be with her again, to trap her with his eyes and make her want him the way he used to. He had no gas and air, had none of his favourite substances, but he still had that stare and the determination that he was starting to claim back.

He was chasing the threads of Layton away and becoming the man he'd always been.

More than that, he was becoming the _monster _he'd always been. And the monster always got what he wanted.


	18. Chapter 17: Truths, Twists & Tenderness

_**A/N: I'm posting chapters of both stories today – if you're reading both stories then make sure you read the new chapter of Something Changed before you read this one because there's a slight crossover between the chapters and it will make more sense that way! **_

_**Please note, this is a very dark chapter in places (but then do remember some of the themes of the show the fic is based on are just as dark) and also remember that my philosophy is that it's OK to put characters through hell as long as everything works out OK in the end! It might be a few days before I am able to write again because we've got a house full of sickies again but normal service will be resumed soon -x-**_

~xXx~

**Chapter 17**

The news on the radio gave Robin and Kim little reassurance. Tales of their disappearances had been followed with the words '_Police have no leads'._ That wasn't what they needed to hear.

Kim stared at Robin. Listening to the news had distracted them from the song that had played previously and delayed Robin's answer but her question still stood.

"Come on Rob," she said quietly, "you've got to tell me. What happened in ninety five?"

Robin hesitated. He already knew that the news wasn't going to stall Kim forever but he wasn't sure he could face talking about it. He looked away and took a deep breath.

"My father," he said quietly, "he killed my mother."

Kim's choked reaction showed Robin that she certainly hadn't been expecting that.

"_What?"_ she breathed.

Robin couldn't meet her eye.

"He wasn't a very nice man," he said quietly, "he used to drink a lot. Eventually mum was going to leave him. She was getting us out of there, but he found out. Beat her so badly she died." He closed his eyes, his voice dropping so low that Kim could hardly hear. "Damn near killed me too."

Kim stared at him, lost for words for quite some time. A terrible, consuming sense of nausea filled her and she shuddered from head to toe.

"Shit, Rob," she breathed eventually, "I… I never knew…. God, I'm so sorry," she struggled for worlds and still couldn't find any that seemed right. She wished so much that she had an arm free to touch his shoulder, give him comfort, show him that she was there but all she had were words and they were failing her. She swallowed. "I thought _my_ reason for going back was bad, it was nothing compared to…" she trailed off and flinched as she recalled her time in the nineties. "Oh God, you… had to see it all again, didn't you?" the realisation came upon her like a ten ton weight. Robin's tightly closed eyes and the movement of his throat as he swallowed back tears gave her the answer before his nod confirmed it. _"Fuck…"_ her mouth hung open, the shock stealing all sense from her.

"But it changed me." Robin's words were quiet but steady. For a moment Kim seemed surprised that he had even been able to speak. His expression was stronger now, his emotions wrestled under control and his eyes open once again. She stared on, waiting for him to continue.

"How?" she whispered eventually.

Robin looked down and swallowed.

"I walked in," he whispered, "picked the other me up. Took him out. Took _me_ out." He shook his head slowly. "All my life I remembered being taken out of that house and the safety and security I felt in that moment. That was why I joined up in the first place. Suddenly I was," he flinched as the words sounded trite, "I was my own hero. That changed me. It took a while after I came back to get my head around it, but that was what made the difference." He looked back at Kim. "suddenly I wasn't fading into the background any more."

Kim stared at him, seeing something hidden away within his eyes that she'd never seen before. It was strange, but for the short time they'd known each other their friendship had become firm and deep but yet she knew very little about Robin's past. This was a crash course that she was going to take a while to get over.

"Bloody Hell, Robin," she whispered.

Robin's expression changed a little, becoming thoughtful and distant.

"I always wonder," he said quietly, "who it was the first time. Here."

"What? Who?" Kim frowned.

"Who took me out the house," Robin shook his head slowly. "I never found out."

Kim looked at him sadly.

"The whole _going back in time and facing your demons_ thing," she said quietly. He looked back at her. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

Despite himself, Robin gave a tiny smile.

"Like crazy," he agreed. He fell silent, his mind miles away. Eventually he gave a deep sigh and said to Kim, "Once all this is over you're teaching me how to drink and we're going to consume a very large amount of scotch."

"Oh, _don't."_ sighed Kim, "it was bad enough teaching Simon to drink."

Robin bit his lip as he looked at Kim's slightly awkward expression. Sometimes it seemed as though Simon was the white elephant in the room between them. Whatever happened to Simon in the time between Robin waking up and Kim leaving the nineties, Kim remained fairly tight-lipped about it. Robin could understand that to a point, she must have felt in a very awkward position, unsure what she should and shouldn't share. But there were months of Simon-ness that Kim knew and Robin felt too afraid to ask about. He hesitated.

"Did… did he start drinking a lot?" he asked quietly.

Kim looked at him a little guiltily. She cursed herself for making that comment.

"A bit," She said quietly.

"How much is 'a bit?" Robin's voice sounded strained.

Kim stared at him, wishing she had more reassurances for him.

"He wasn't an alcoholic or anything," she said quickly, "he just…" she trailed off a little. "He didn't cope with being apart as well as you have."

Robin gave a mocking laugh.

"Yeah, right."

"No, seriously."

"You remember the state I was on the first time we met," Robin pointed out.

"You were dealing with more than Simon was," Kim pointed out, "and look at you now." She sighed and shook her head slowly. "You always put yourself down, Rob. Always make out like Simon's the strong one."

"He always _has_ been."

"Maybe because you let him be," Kim said quietly.

Robin hesitated.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"Maybe," Kim whispered, "he thought he was the strong one because you stayed in the shadows. Maybe he didn't realise how much strength he actually drew from _you."_

Robin stared at her. The dim light shone reflected from her eyes.

"But was he OK?" he asked.

Kim wasn't sure. Elements of Simon's behaviour at the time worried her and she couldn't shake them from her mind. Even years on she wondered whether he coped after she left.

"He's OK," she whispered, just hoping that was the truth. Before Robin could ask her anything else and before she had a chance to change the subject the opening bars of a song on the radio caught her attention. They made her freeze absolutely and her heart started to race. The strange look on her face brought alarm to Robin.

"Oh God, don't tell me this is _your _trigger now?" he pleaded.

Kim looked at him, a crooked smile upon her face and shook her head.

"No," she whispered, "not… not a bad one, at any rate. It's just," she closed her eyes for a moment as _Moments in Love_ by Art of Noise played through the barge, "it reminds me of something. Reminds me of some_one."_

"Who?" Robin whispered.

The sad smile on Kim's face confused him. Was it a good memory or a bad one?

"Someone I used to know," she said quietly. She sniffed a little, tears of emotion threatening to build in her eye. "Of course, that's the problem with that whole bloody world," she whispered, "there comes a time when you have to say goodbye." Kim hadn't thought about Shaz in years. It hurt too much to remember someone she'd felt so strongly about with no way to ever see her again. She was surprised by the fast pounding of her heart and the tingling down below as she remembered her.

"Sounds like it was someone pretty special," Robin whispered.

Kim nodded and bit her slip. She knew Robin was waiting for her to expand upon that but she couldn't bring herself to talk about it, _especially_ not in the middle of such a grim situation. She was almost glad of the distraction that came from the hollow growling noise her stomach let forth, empty and desperate for nourishment. The darkness hid her pink cheeks as she blushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," she said quietly, "that was me."

Robin gave a gentle laugh.

"I didn't like to say," he smiled, relieved that a little of the high tension had been broken. Ever since Keats left them on the barge in search of Layton's favourite kind of pick 'n' mix their conversation had been intense and their emotions had been running high. He wasn't sure his nerves could cope with much more. His head was starting to hurt from dehydration and he felt weak throughout his body. Unfortunately for him, Kim had another question and it wasn't going to be a light-hearted one. He could see from the look in her eyes that there was something important she needed to ask.

"Rob?"

He looked at her.

"What?"

"What happened on the road with Alex?"

Robin felt his whole body turn cold from his head to his toes.

"What?"

"I can't stop thinking about what you said," Kim whispered, "about your strange reaction."

"What strange reaction?" Robin asked quietly, just trying to stall for time.

"Come _on_, Rob," Kim said sternly, "this is me. No bullshitting. I can read you like a book. What happened when you crashed? How did you know about…" she trailed off. She could see he already knew what she was asking. Clarifying was overkill. She saw his eyes turn downward.

"I don't know, Kim," he whispered, "even at the time I didn't understand it, but now..." he shook his head slowly.

"How did you know about the tingling hands and the heat?" Kim whispered. She already knew the answer deep down but tried to deny it. She didn't like the implications. Neither did Robin as his terrified eyes proved when they met her gaze.

"Alex died on the road, Kim," he whispered, "in my arms. I dragged her out of the car and I held her," his voice wavered as though tears were about to fall at any second, "I could feel her slipping away, and I knew that was for the best," he choked a little as he thought about those strange, inexplicable moments, "I held her head in my arms and I felt her, just like you said," his eyes glistened with tears now, "I felt her lifting up, out of her body. There was this heat inside if me… all around my heart… I had to help her," his voice grew so low that Kim had to lip-read to catch half of his words, "and she moved on. She went home." As he blinked, one tear fell. "I did it too, Kim. What they do. I did it too."

Kim swallowed, a lump in her throat. Her eyes were fixed on Robin's, his own fear reflected in her eyes.

"That's not possible," she whispered.

"But it happened," Robin told her. He swallowed. "The bullet went straight through me. How did it hit you instead of me? It went right through me like I wasn't even there."

Kim flinched. She tried hard not to think about that.

"He must have…" she tried to argue that his bullet had missed or that his aim had been poor but she knew it was a fruitless argument. She saw the bullet pass straight through Robin and she'd relived it in her mind a thousand times. She simply didn't want to admit what it could mean.

"I'm…" he breathed, "there's something wrong with me…"

"Robin, no," Kim shook her head, desperately trying to stop him from thinking that way.

"If I'm like them," Robin found himself trembling, "then I…. I must be –"

"No, Rob, please don't say it," Kim whispered.

"But I _must_ be," Robin's voice shook as badly as his body, "how else could I help her? How else could I send her back?"

Kim shook her head a little more violently. She couldn't bear to think of it, even as ridiculous as it sounded.

"Maybe you were just in the right place at the right time…" she began.

"But that doesn't explain _how_ I could do it," Robin whispered, "why _me?_ And I've been," he flinched, "I've been seeing things… hearing things… _Simon,"_ his voice trailed away.

"What do you mean?" Kim whispered.

"And that's not possible," Robin hissed, "is it?" he stared at Kim, "did you ever, _ever_ hear or see anything from that world? In all the time since you woke up? Even just once?"

Kim stared at him. She stayed still and silent for the longest time but finally she could only shake her head.

"No," she breathed.

Robin swallowed again but he couldn't fight back another tear.

"Am I even alive?" he breathed.

Kim stared at him. Her heart pounded in her chest and her cold fingers began to shake.

"Touch me," she whispered.

"What?"

"Put your hand on me, Robin."

"Why-?"

"Just… just do it," Kim breathed, "Please?"

Hesitantly Robin reached out with his free hand and laid it against Kim's shoulder. She closed her eyes as she took in the sensation; the pressure of his fingers, the warmth of his body heat through her clothing. He was real, solid, _alive._

"Kim, I don't understand."

"You feel real enough to me," Kim whispered as she opened her eyes.

Robin was trapped in her gaze.

"That's what I always thought too," he whispered, "until now."

"It doesn't make any sense, Rob," Kim shook her head slowly, "if you were dead why would you be _here?_ You'd be_ there_, with Simon and Alex and Gene."

"_Alex_ was here," Robin whispered.

"What?"

"The wrong Alex."

"But she still had a body to return to here," Kim whispered "if you died you'd be under the ground by now."

"Nothing seems to make sense, Kim," Robin trembled, "everything's been insane. And I know what you're saying but what if I _had_ to come back here for a reason, even though I was supposed to be dead? What if I was here to help Alex? Or to stop Keats now?"

"Robin, this is all so –"

"I know, I know it's crazy," Robin shook his head slowly, "but then again… when you first woke in ninety five, wasn't_ that_ crazy too?"

Kim swallowed.

"Yes," she whispered,

"Didn't that redefine 'crazy' for you?"

Kim felt tears come to her eyes. They took her by surprise.

"Yes," she whispered.

Robin's fingers moved slowly up and down her arm as he whispered,

"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable –"

"- Must be the truth," Kim knew the quote well.

Robin caught her in his stare and she couldn't break away.

"Do you think it's improbable," he whispered, "that I'm already dead?"

Kim took in a jagged breath.

"Yes," she whispered.

Robin nodded.

"But," he whispered, "after all you've seen… all you've experienced… here, there, back and forth," his lip waivered, "do you think that it's _impossible?"_

Kim stared into his eyes and desperately wished the answer was yes. She wished with every bone in her body she could tell him that he was being stupid, that there was no possible way he could be anything but 100% alive and kicking. But she'd seen too much. She'd been places that made little sense in her mind. She'd grasped the seemingly intangible and understood it to be every bit as real as the ropes that tied her arms together. With tears in her eyes she whispered,

"No… No, Robin. It's not impossible."

Robin felt acid burning his throat as he tried to comprehend what this meant. His head throbbed and his head couldn't handle the thoughts floating around in his mind.

"When you got shot," Robin whispered, "in ninety five… what happened?"

Kim's lip trembled.

"The bullet," she whispered, "it went… went right through him."

"Through who?" Robin already knew the answer.

"Simon," Kim breathed.

Robin felt the breath leave his body in an exclamation of despair that he wasn't expecting.

"_Fuck."_

Kim stared at him again. There was something different about him. Something she'd never seen before. She didn't know what it was but she felt drawn to him, like a magnet. She couldn't even blink. Didn't dare.

"Robin," she whispered. She'd never found herself caught in his stare so strongly before. Had she ever noticed how dark, how deep his eyes were? She didn't think so.

"What?" Kim's intense gaze caught Robin off-guard, "what's the matter?"

Kim's heart beat so hard it felt as though there was a hole on her chest where it beat itself free. Something overtook her, something she couldn't explain. Shaking, trembling, she moved her head forward and her eyelids gently closed. The fear travelling through her veins was insane and she couldn't understand what she was doing, she just knew that she had to do it.

She pressed her lips against Robin's, a move that surprised her every bit as much as it did Robin, and felt a pounding in her chest. Shocked and stunned by her actions, Robin didn't kiss her back but he didn't push her away either. His eyes briefly closed as his breath seemed to disappear from his lungs, the shock of her action stealing it from within him. It was the first time anyone had shown him an intimate gesture since his last night in ninety five with Simon and despite being the wrong person, the wrong gender and the wrong place, Kim's kiss gave Robin a sense of care and warmth through his body.

He felt himself shaking all over as her lips drew away and his eyes opened again. He found himself staring right into _her_ eyes, Kim as shocked and dazed as Robin was himself. Her lips moved as though about to offer some kind of explanation or apology but no sound emerged from within and nothing coherent seemed to form. Robin ran his tongue around his lips. They seemed dry and he could tell the unfamiliar taste of Kim against them. _God_, his pulse was racing. He found himself struck dumb, struggling for a word, _any_ word at all.

_Say something. Please, say something. Break the silence. _

As it turned out, they didn't need to. The silence was broken in the most shattering way.

"Well."

The voice neither of them expected. The voice neither of them wanted to hear. Two pairs of shocked eyes became two pairs of horrified eyes.

"I wouldn't have believed that if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." The pacing footsteps came closer until a pair of feet stood right beside them and Keats crouched down by their side. There was a fixed, sneering smile upon his face, a sneer that was very clearly not Layton's. It was Keats's own smile. He'd managed to 'import' it over. In fact, his features were looking less like Layton's with every passing moment as he stared at them and continued; "This is getting to be a bit of a habit, isn't it Kimberley?" His glare focused on her, "for a self-professed dyke you seem to be doing a very good job of venturing into heterosexual territory, don't you?" His sneer turned to Robin. "Although with hair like that you could be forgiven for thinking you were kissing a girl." Keats's stare flicked from one of them to the other, waiting for one of them to react, to say something, anything at all. In truth, both were too shocked by what had happened to give full attention to the fact that an angry Keats was kneeling beside them, spitting venom in their direction.

Kim trembled as she glanced from Robin to Keats, from one pair of shocked dark eyes to a pair of angry, bitter ones. She swallowed but her mouth felt so dry it might as well have been full of sand. She couldn't explain what had happened. She couldn't explain what she'd done or why. That strange moment, the strange compulsion, feeling drawn to Robin was something that went beyond any understanding of sexuality or attraction or emotion. It was a connection, a deep bond and a moment of utter intensity born of fear and confusion.

"Thought I was going to have to try some persuasion," Keats hissed, his defined features bursting through Layton's mask of wretched skin in flashes, "but it looks like you're up for it tonight so you'll enjoy what I've got in mind."

Kim's eyes grew wide and a terrible scream rang from her throat as Keats's words sank in and she realised what he had in mind for her.

"_No!"_ her voice was louder and more urgent than it had ever been, "No!"

"Get the hell away from her!" Robin cried, lashing out with his free arm to strike him but he quickly skipped past Kim and began to work on untying her binds. The thrashing and writhing of her body made the task difficult, but his efficient knot tying made it even harder. He started to swear and curse as his fingers fumbled at the ropes, causing a mocking cry from Robin.

"Ha! He can't untie his own knots!"

It was a stupid, childish, cheap shot but it certainly served to increase Keats's anger. He gave a loud, violent cry of frustration and thumped his fists to the ground. Finally he took out his knife and tried to rip his way through the rope with the blade.

"Not that I object to the occasional bit of bondage," he hissed through gritted teeth, "but I was rather hoping to enjoy this without the ropes." When he failed to make much of a dent in the binds he gave a grunt, pushed Kim's head to the floor in anger and stood up, swaggering from side to side in fury. Whether it was the drugs or the remains of Layton's crumbling body he just couldn't control his hands well enough. _"Fine!"_ he spat, "bondage it is."

"_No!"_ Kim tried to struggle and writhe from his grip as he lowered himself beside her and brought one hand around to her chest. "Get your fucking hands away from me!" she screamed.

Keats had waited long enough. He'd been at the mercy of Layton's compulsions and now it was time to allow his own to get some air time. He crawled on top of her, straddled her and reached for the fastening around her waist but hadn't expected the primal, animalistic scream that came from beside him or the violent motion that ripped his leg almost out of place as Robin grasped the leg of his trousers with his free hand and tried to pull him clean away from Kim. He almost succeeded too. Whether it was the gym sessions paying off or simply Robin's hatred for the man who had more lives than the cast of _Cats_ put together he found a strength he never knew was there.

Keats gave a gasp of surprise as Robin's second attempt at removing him from Kim succeeded in dragging him to the floor, followed by a punch in the guts from his one free hand. Blazing eyes of anger turned to Robin, a look of absolute disgust upon the copper's face. Suddenly Keats's urges changed and morphed as his fury took precedent over his libido. Perhaps there was a way to deal with both.

"Jealous, are we?" he spat in Robin's face, "what, you want a piece of me too? that can be arranged. " He grasped Robin's free arm and pulled it back sharply, turning him onto his front and pinning the arm beneath his legs as he unfastened the portion of the rope tying Robin's binds to Kim's. "I fancy another go in that nice, cosy bed of yours anyway," he hissed into Robin's ear as he whimpered and cried out beneath him, Keats's knee in his back and fear running through his veins, "think your flat's going to be nice and empty for us? None of your uniformed mates hanging around, I hope?" He grasped Robin under the arms and began to pull him away. "I suppose we can always do a lap of honour if it looks busy, can't we?"

"Get the fuck away from me," Robin screamed, wildly thrashing in his grasp but he'd used up the last of his real energy pulling Keats away from Kim and he had little left to protect himself.

"_Robin!"_ Kim's scream was haunted and terrified.

"Shush now," Keats hissed as he tightened his grasp, defeating Robin's attempts at breaking away, "don't want you losing your voice, do we?" he gave a sigh and stared at Robin. "I hope your arse isn't as hairy as Simon's."

That was the last thing Keats said as he took Robin from the barge, the screams of Kim ringing in his ears behind him and Robin's own cries accompanying him all the way to the car. So his last three points of his plan were going to be slightly out of order. So what? Kim could wait. Maybe he should save the best for last anyway. Time for Robin to get what was coming to him first and beyond that? Well, one thing at a time.

He had it all planned out. The plan was so simple. He could almost see it playing out in his mind.

Funny how the one thing he didn't see was the surprise that awaited him at Robin's. Pretty soon the possibility of cops swarming the place would be the least of his worries.


	19. Chapter 18: Fight, Frames & Fathers

_**A/N: Warning – this chapter is very dark in places**_

**Chapter 18**

Robin stared blankly out of the window as Keats drove along. He felt empty, defeated and desperate. He'd tried to fight back and get away, he'd given it all he had but his energy was sapped by the lack of food and water and he'd used the last of his strength to pull Keats away from Kim. Since Keats had finally managed to tie his second hand behind his back he had little chance of fighting or escaping and eventually stopped struggling once he'd been loaded into the back seat of his own car. There wasn't much he could do there. It was best, he decided, to save his strength for trying to fight when they were out of the car.

"Hope you've put some clean sheets on," Keats commented as he drove along.

Robin's heart was racing with fear. Keats had left him in no doubt what he was planning to do. It was his ultimate revenge, really. The downward spiral that Keats had taken over time as he became less and less humanised and more demonic was disturbing. He'd gone from trying to use hypnotic persuasion to lure people to his bed to faking an assault to drugging and now, it seemed, he was actually going to carry out the most terrible, violent action.

"It's all the same to you, isn't it?" he spat from the back seat, staring at the reflection of a man who was metamorphosing between two faces at various intervals in the rear view mirror, "man, woman, goat – you don't care."

"On the contrary, I usually stay away from farmyard animals," Keats told him.

Robin genuinely didn't believe that somehow. He could quite see Keats getting banned from the petting zoo for taking the petting a little too far.

"Carry on the way you're going, you'll sprout a pair of horns and be mistaken for a goat," he snapped but his fury only earned him a mocking laugh from Keats.

"Yack, yack, yack," he sighed, "what's that line about sticks and stones?"

Robin ignored him and carried on staring out of the window. Despite the horror he faced imminently his mind kept going back to Kim and the kiss on the barge. He couldn't stop thinking about it, replaying the moment in an attempt to understand what happened. He couldn't quite comprehend it. Their talk had been deeply intense and full of terrifying revelations to contemplate and the atmosphere was thick and dark but even so he couldn't work out what brought her to make such an unexpected move.

Quite absently he closed his eyes and ran his tongue around his lips, He swore he could still taste her there. He shook his head just a little, so confused by the kiss. He replayed over and over those last few moments before it happened, the strange way she was looking at him, the intensity in her eyes as though she couldn't tear them away from his. He couldn't understand it for a second, Kim was happily married and most certainly only interested in women. Unless… was that actually how she saw him? Keats's comment about his hair might have just been a spiteful remark but did she think of him as being somewhat feminine? Maybe he was overdoing it with the home made food? Had she caught him wearing an apron at some point? A sudden thought struck him that he found a little hard to work out or to process, but he realised that, in a way, he thought of Kim as more like a boy than a woman. He wasn't sure that was a comment she'd be very pleased about but it was true. _God,_ is that why things were getting all mixed up?

He caught a glimpse of Keats's eyes staring at him in the mirror and scowled.

_You see,_ Robin thought to himself, _You think I'm sitting here thinking about you and what you're trying to do, but I'm not. I'm thinking about Kim, not you and your malicious ways. So, actually, I win this round. Hah!_

"I can hear what you're thinking," Keats told him.

For a second Robin almost panicked, then realised it was just another bullshit tactic to try to freak him out. Keats could no more hear Robin's thoughts than he could juggle crocodiles.

"Oh yeah?" Robin scowled, "what am I thinking now?"

Keats eyed him.

"Language, Mister Thomas," Keats scolded.

"Pah," Robin mocked, "you haven't got it." He'd been thinking about an ostrich.

He closed his eyes for a moment and wasted time wishing himself out of the situation. Surely there was a way. Maybe Keats would crash the car, or someone would recognise the number plate and he'd get stopped. Perhaps they'd get there to find his flat swarming with cops. But as Keats pulled up outside, the flat was dark and the car park practically empty.

"Well well, looks like no one's at home," Keats smiled. "I see you got on that door fairly fast. I left it _open,_ if I remember rightly."

Robin had forgotten about the new door. He hadn't even seen it yet.

"Yeah, well," he hissed, "maybe you should try using the key this time."

"A very good idea," Keats commented as he opened the door, climbed out of the car, went round to the back and climbed in beside Robin to hunt through his pockets. He found the key that Robin had been handed earlier and held it aloft. "ahh, so bright and shiny. Almost worth the new door, hmm?"

"Was it worth the new _face?"_ Robin snapped childishly. Once again, it seemed to have the desired effect on Keats. The more immature the comment, the more it seemed to rile him up. Although under the circumstances riling him up was probably not the wisest move it was certainly satisfying.

"Out," Keats barked before realising that, as Robin's legs were still tied, he'd have to drag him out himself. With a sigh, as though the dragging of Robin was a household chore, he pulled him from the car and began to lug him towards the flats. Robin tried crying out for help but Keats saw to that with a kick to the crotch that sent Robin howling in pain. "Any more screaming from you and you'll be needing corrective surgery to remove _Little Robin_ from your zip," he warned.

He dragged Robin, step by step, up to the flat where he found a rather horrible door.

"Oh _ugh,"_ Robin couldn't stop himself declaring, "_green?_ Who the fuck thought green was a good colour for a door?"

"Shakin' Stevens," said Keats as he unlocked the new door and shoved Robin inside. He switched on the light and closed the door behind them before turning to Robin with an anger and a fury that Robin had never seen before. "Now," he began, "finally we're alone and in civilisation. What shall we do first? Cup of tea and a cake?" He gripped Robin under the arms and began to drag him through to the bedroom. Despite using all his energy to struggle and writhe Robin couldn't get free of Keats's grip or of his binds.

"Get the fuck off me!" he screamed.

"Quiet, you don't want the neighbours complaining about the noise," Keats sighed as though talking to a child. He finally threw Robin to the bed and pulled his legs up onto it. Robin immediately rolled over and crashed to the ground where he howled in pain, causing Keats to cry, "You stupid fool, what do you think you're doing? Hmm?" he kicked Robin squarely in the guts and marched out of the room which confused Robin no end. He tried to slither along the floor, all tied up, but aside from looking like he was doing a one-man interpretation of _The Human Centipede_ he only got as far as the door before he found himself in front of Keats's feet. His line of sight travelled upwards where he found Keats brandishing a breadknife from the kitchen,

"Left mine on the barge," he explained, "I thought this one might tackle the ropes better."

"Thought you wanted some bondage," Robin hissed, the fear starting to set in now.

"Time and a place for that" Keats hissed, his features morphing back and forth. He grasped Robin and dragged him back to the bed then opened his bedside drawers one at a time and started indiscriminately tossing items aside until he found a pair of handcuffs, then he grabbed the knife, climbed onto the bed, turned Robin over and started to saw through the ropes.

"Fuck off," Robin cried. He knew his protests were useless but he wasn't going to just sit back and take it.

"Almost done," Keats told him as he freed one hand and quickly secured it to the headboard to stop him trying any more _Robin Centipede_ escape tactics, "now, for the legs."

He finished removing the ropes from Robin's legs and his other arm before standing back to watch Robin recoiling to the top of the bed, almost trying to compact himself into as small a space as possible by the pillows, his legs drawn up underneath him. He swallowed as his eyes widened with fear. There was a smile on Keats's hybrid features, a smile that shook Robin to the core. He felt himself trembling now and he felt as though he'd suddenly lost the ability to speak or move. All he could do was to watch and wait in fear. Now that the moment had arrived, the terror was too great to react.

"A man in uniform," Keats commented as he walked closer, "no wonder Kimberley _turned_. Hard to resist. Shame your uniform is looking so grubby."

"Hours in a filthy barge will do that to you," Robin finally managed to croak out.

"Let's get rid of that shall we?" Keats sneered as he grasped at the collar and tugged the material hard. The shirt came apart down the middle, several of the buttons coming away from their button holes whole one or two popped clean off the material. Robin couldn't move, he couldn't react. The feeling of the cold air against his chest barely registered as a numbness overtook him from head to toe. His mind worked at trying to zone out, to block out what was going on. Anything to stop this. Anything to block out the knowledge of what was about to happen.

As Keats ripped back the shirt he froze suddenly and stared at Robin's shoulder. After a moment he grabbed it and wrenched it closer to get a better look, leaving Robin to cry out in pain.

"What's this?" Keats spat, "inking up your arm?" he looked at Robin with absolute, genuine shock on his face as Robin tried to shrug his hands away from his skin.

"Get away from me," he hissed.

Keats looked at him with a sneer of contempt, his face mere inches away from Robin's. He almost shook as he realised how far Robin had come on his own, out of Simon's shadow. What happened to that suicidal weakling about to get himself a one-way ticket to Fenchurch West?

"Any more surprises for me, Robin?" he hissed, "got nothing pierced, have you?"

"I'll pierce your head in a minute," Robin tried to sound menacing but his trembles took away the power of his words.

"Look at that insignia," Keats sneered as he ripped away at the sleeve of Robin's shirt, "who gave you a promotion? Suck your way to the top, did you?"

"Funny how that's the first thing you think of," Robin hissed, "now suddenly your meteoric rise to the top all becomes clear."

"I haven't needed to stoop that low," Keats spat.

"No, no one would _let_ you," Robin hissed, earning him a slap from Keats whose anger was growing.

"Sometimes they don't get a say in the matter."

Keats's sentence was the single most chilling, twisted thing he had ever said. Robin's stomach turned as he saw the manic look in his eyes and reached angrily for Robin's belt. Despite lashing out with his legs and trying to kick Keats with all the force he could manage it didn't stop Keats from undoing the buckle and yanking it from the belt loops. For a terrible moment Robin thought he was about to receive a pounding with it but Keats threw it to the ground and grabbed for Robin's fly instead. Robin's cover of bravado vanished right there and then as he screamed, begged and pleaded for Keats to stop but with every terrified cry Keats's grin only increased and his hunger grew stronger.

"Thought you'd be gagging for it by now, Robin," he spat, "how long has it been? Six months? Seven?" As he ripped away at Robin's trousers the sight of a photograph on his bedside table made him smirk. "Aw, look," he mocked, "Simon's watching us. How sweet, been gone for months and yet you still keep him by your bedside." He turned his attention to the photograph on the other side of the bed. It was a slightly faded photograph of a woman. "And who's that? Simon in drag? Did he have some kind of secret alternative persona?"

"That's my mother, fuckbrain," Robin spat. Even he didn't know where 'fuckbrain' came from but it seemed to suit him. Keats seemed immune to the insult, instead abandoning Robin's half-removed trousers to take a better look at Mrs Thomas. He climbed off of Robin and reached out for the photo.

"You made her proud, have you?" he sneered, "is she proud of her son, going round fiddling with dogs?" he looked at Robin but his retorts had vanished now. Instead he stared coldly at Keats, desperately wishing for his torment to stop. He couldn't handle this. Now the teasing had turned to the mother he lost so tragically he just wanted to cry his eyes out and sink away into the pillow, to disappear and hide. "Nice floral blouse," Keats mocked, "maybe you can borrow it. Make Kimberley think you're even more of a woman. You might yet get lucky."

"Fuck off," Robin hissed.

"Touchy," Keats raised an eyebrow.

"Put the picture down." Robin hissed.

"Excuse me?" Keats glared at him, "I'm the one with the knife and you're the one chained to the bed. Who's going to give the orders around here?"

"_Put it down!"_ Robin screamed.

Keats turned to him with angry eyes.

"With pleasure," he spat, throwing the frame to the floor where it landed glass-side down with a horrible shattering sound. The back of the frame bounced out of place as one of the corners came away and a folded section of the photograph within was exposed. The hidden portion of the picture caught Keats's eye and a momentary glance was followed quickly by a double take. As the image filtered through to his mind, Keats froze. He looked as though someone had paused him, almost like they'd nipped to the toilet in the middle of a favourite TV show and left the action frozen until they returned. For a moment Robin felt confused and anxious, he didn't seem to be moving at all. Then, slowly, Keats reached forward and lifted the folded photograph from the shards of glass. His hands were trembling as he held it towards Robin and hissed, "Tell me who this is."

Robin stared at him, confused and aghast.

"That's my mother," he told him again.

"Not her, the _man,"_ Keats literally spat, his manic eyes widening as he thrust the other side of the picture closer to Robin.

Robin swallowed as he stared at the image. A deep sense of nausea swallowed up inside of him as he whispered,

"My father."

"_What?"_

"That's my fucking _father,"_ Robin cried, his bile and anger growing with ever second that he was forced to look at the man. The photo had been folded for so many years that he had completely forgotten what lurked on the other side of the frame. It was one of the few photos of his mother that he had been given, which was why it was the one he'd had framed many years ago. The fact that the half of his genes that he wished he could lose somewhere along the line was in the other half of the photo was easily remedied by folding it over. He should have just cut him out but there was a part of him that wondered if, one day, he would regret having nothing of his father left. It hadn't happened so far, but it was always a chance. In the years since, the other photos he had seemed to have disappeared and that one framed picture meant the world to Robin. His eyes moved from the photograph to Keats who had turned a whiter shade of pale.

"That is _not,"_ he began, "your father. Tell me that is _not_ your _fucking father!"_

"I wish he wasn't!" Robin screamed, his heart racing through a mixture of terror, confusion and the sight of the man he never wanted to see again.

Keats was frozen to the spot. He trembled as he stared at the picture in his hand, then back at Robin' his eyes darted from one to the other, again and again, a terrible burning sensation rising in his chest. Robin watched as his adam's apple rose and fell. From Layton's crusty features, where his own had been forcing their way through they now found themselves pushing away every trace of the man who had been Keats's host. Layton's face disappeared and, as he shook with rage and anguish, every feature became unmistakably _his_. The crusty skin, gone. The bloodshot eyes, gone. The sagging features, gone. And in their place was Keats. Completely, unmistakably Keats.

The transformation was shocking, but not as shocking as the sudden burst of venom and anger that Keats let forth with a terrifying, wall-shaking scream, the likes of which Robin had never heard before. It was almost inhuman. He pressed himself as far against the wall behind him as he could as though to back away from the monster before him, wanting to hide like a frightened child.

Keats's eyes focused on Robin, full of a kind of hatred and revulsion that he'd never felt before in his life. He felt sick, gut-wrenchingly sick and he gagged as he stared at Robin's half-naked torso, all his plans now put out of his head. He thrust the photograph into his pocket, causing a cry of anguish from Robin.

"No, _please,"_ he cried, "that's the only photo I have of her."

But Keats wasn't listening. He listened only to his rage, to the emotions that were overtaking him. They burst forth in a moment of violent action that broke through whole new levels of fear that Robin never thought possible. His arms lashed out and struck anything that lurked nearby; a pile of loose DVDs beside the TV flew through the room like shuriken, boxes and knick-knacks arranged neatly on a shelf flew in all directions and pictures hanging on the wall found themselves removed and smashed without a second thought for their value, financial or sentimental.

Robin tried to shout _'no'_ but his voice just failed him and he found himself struck dumb, watching in silence as clothes and books were thrown all around him.

Finally, like a toy running out of battery power, Keats's burst of rage began to calm and die and he found himself frozen, half-bent over, about to grab something from the floor to throw against the wall. He was panting, his eyes were wild and he looked as though he had realised that no matter how much rage he displayed it wasn't making him feel any better. His eyes turned back to Robin and the sight of him brought a terrible sense of nausea raging through his guts. Without warning he turned and gagged, then vomited onto the rug with a loud retching sound. When he finally stopped his eyes turned upwards to where Robin sat, terrified and bewildered, and began to pace forward.

"What fucking use are you to me now?" he spat, "Hmm?"

Robin swallowed and shook. He had no idea what was happening or what Keats was going to do next. He could hardly bring himself to watch as the man – _the monster_ – before him strode to the wardrobe, threw open the doors and pulled out two of his police shirts. He shuddered as Keats turned his back to him and let his own shirt fall to the floor, then slipped the crisp, clean uniform on and fastened the buttons.

"W-what are you doing?" Robin finally managed to whisper.

Keats turned around, his shirt already done up halfway, and threw the second shirt at Robin.

"Can't be seen out in that tatty thing," he sneered, "anyone would think you'd just spent the day tied up on a shitty old boat."

"What?" Robin shook his head in disbelief, "how the hell am I supposed to put that on when I'm still cuffed to the bed?"

"Shit," Keats cursed, marching back to the other side of the bed, "where are the keys"

Robin swallowed.

"In the same drawer," he whispered.

Keats opened up the drawer again and rummaged around until he found them. He unfastened the part that had been chained to the bed and yanked the rest of the torn shirt from Robin's body before stuffing his arms through the clean shirt like a child dressing a stuffed animal. Despite his best attempts to struggle free of Keats's grasp or to aim a fist or a foot in his direction Robin failed to make an escape and found himself buttoned up and smartly dressed once again. Keats quickly slapped the second side of the handcuffs to his own wrist and glared at Robin.

"Little insurance policy," he hissed.

Robin stared at him, his worry growing by the moment.

"Why?" he whispered, "what the hell are you doing now?"

"We are going to go and pay a sick friend a little visit," hissed Keats, pulling Robin to his feet, "do your bloody trousers up, you'll get arrested for indecent exposure."

Robin scowled and did his best to fasten his trousers with his cuffed hand.

"What do you mean, _pay a sick friend a visit_?" he demanded.

"Well," Keats sighed, "I've seen _you,_ I've seen _Kimberley _– it would be rude not to see Alex while I was here."

Robin froze.

"You stay the fuck away from her," he hissed.

"How much do you value your life, Robin?" asked Keats, "how much do you value your soul?"

Robin swallowed but tried to stare him in the eye.

"Keep your 'give me her and I'll spare you'," he hissed, "I'm not trading my safety for hers."

"You don't have to, Robin," Keats sneered, "I just want to see her."

Robin slowly shook his head.

"You're a liar," he said, "a fucking liar. I don't know what you are planning but I know it's not worth it. I'd rather give my own life than risk hers."

"Stupid bloody martyr talk," Keats grabbed Robin by the neck and pulled him closer. He heard a terrified gasp emerge from his lips as he stared him right in the eye. "Second insurance policy is already in place, _'Rob'_. My friend Layton left a few of his memories laying around for me to enjoy. I put together a little surprise for Kimberley and the brat. Want to know what I left them?"

Robin tried to swallow but the hand around his neck stopped him.

"if it's anything like the surprise you left in my toilet yesterday then I don't think they'll be very impressed," he hissed.

Keats ignored him.

"There's a bomb set to explode two hours from now, Robin," he spat, "the barge is going to go sky high with its measly crew upon it. Now, either you get me in to see Alex and I let you off scot-free to run to the boat, save the ladies and be the big hero, or you try to stop me, I slit your throat and there's no one to stop the barge from blowing sky high."

Robin swallowed.

"You wouldn't dare," he whispered, "you love Kim. You wouldn't hurt her."

"Have you never heard the phrase '_we always hurt the ones we love'_?" Keats sneered.

Robin stared at him.

"So you admit you love her?" he hissed.

Keats froze. Robin's words had caught him off-guard and another bout of rage began to grow inside of him. He seemed to shake a little and an inhuman growl came from deep within his chest which ended with a grunt of fury as he pushed Robin away by the throat. Robin coughed and spluttered, rubbing his neck and staggering from side to side until Keats pulled him closer by the handcuffs like reeling in an unruly dog on the end of a lead. Robin looked at him, his heart rate soaring with anxiety as he hissed,

"Why do I have to get you in to see Alex anyway?"

"With my 'host' on the loose they're bound to up her security, aren't they?" Keats pointed out, "you're going to get me through."

"What do you need me for?" Robin scowled, "you've stolen my bloody uniform. Why can't you go on our own?"

"You're her buddy-buddy pal, aren't you?" Keats sneered, "I've heard all about it on the news. _Detective Inspector Alex Drake and Police Inspector Robin Thomas tracked the wanted Arthur Layton._ Oh, what circles you move in, Robin." He pulled him towards the door, put the key in his pocket and picked up the bread knife. "Now, what do you think? Grapes or flowers?" he paused. "I think grapes. How about you?"

Robin stayed silent as Keats dragged him from the flat and down to the car. The events of the last few minutes had bewildered him beyond compare and he couldn't make any sense of them but before he could even try to work out what was going on he needed to work out how to stop Keats in his tracks. Grapes or otherwise, he could just imagine the reason for Keats to pay a visit to Alex in the hospital. It was going to be for one of two things and neither was going to happen if Robin had anything to do with it.

He had to bide his time. He couldn't be silly about this He didn't know whether the bomb was real or a figment of Keats's overactive imagination but he couldn't take that risk. He needed to stop Keats and save his own neck to get back to the barge before anything happened.

As Keats pushed him into the car and took his position in the driver's seat Robin took a deep breath and drew his courage together. This was_ it,_ he realised. It was his turn now. This was his reason for still being there. He _did_ have his own Keats to kill – and failure was not an option.


	20. Chapter 19: Skin, Scars & Scissors

**Chapter 19**

"You know, you could probably steer better of you unchained our wrists," Robin told Keats angrily as his arm waved ridiculously in the air according to Keats's driving.

"And leave you free to do what?" Keats sneered, "try to strangle me again? Grab the wheel? Pick your nose?"

"Why not? I've had nothing to eat all day, a bogie might go down well," Robin snapped. Something about Keats and his sneering wit brought out a very childish side in him, full of playground retorts that seemed to have a far stronger effect than anything else did. He noted quite proudly that Keats seemed to turn a little green at the thought of eating bogies but felt less please with himself when Keats switched on the radio in time to find _Freedom_ blasting out.

While Keats's spiteful tongue was out of action for a moment Robin took the opportunity to focus on the grim task ahead. He could feel his palms sweating at the thought of it as the realisation of what he was about to do started to finally sink in. he had been over and over the options in his mind and there really seemed no other way to end this situation than to kill Keats. It was a thought that terrified Robin beyond words. He didn't feel able to take another man's life. It wasn't within him to do so. But, as he told himself again and again, this was no man. Keats was a monster through and through.

He stared out of the window as the headlights illuminated the road ahead of them. He remembered commenting to Alex that it always seemed that Simon was two steps ahead of him in life with _everything_; every promotion, every experience - and now it seemed he had to follow in his footsteps yet again, with taking Keats's life.

He tried to find another way out but everything he thought of had a flaw. Try to alert someone to the situation and Keats could kill him instantly. If the bomb on the boat really existed then even if Keats was arrested he only had to keep quiet about it and within a couple of hours both Kim and Molly would be dead. Robin needed to ensure that he would survive to get to them in time.

And besides, even if he tried to alert someone to what was happening, Keats had morphed. He was no longer in Layton's skin. Layton was the man everyone was looking for. They'd see Keats and… what? Just look past him. He wasn't the face on the news at every bulletin.

Leaving Keats alive in 2011 wasn't an option. That was a fact. Robin knew that. He was too dangerous. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he knew that he had to, somehow. He felt nausea bubbling inside of him as he thought about it. He could quite see himself ending up in prison for life over this, too. But if it was a choice of that or Alex, Kim and himself all ending up in Keats's dominion for eternity then prison was the easier option.

He took several deep breaths as he steeled himself for what lay ahead. As they stopped at a red light he became aware of a pair of eyes that were staring at him and he turned to see Keats with a glare fixed upon his face.

"What are you looking it?" he snapped angrily.

Keats didn't reply. He left his glare where it was for some time, as though studying Robin's features like he was about to make a critical analysis of a piece of art, then silently turned his stare back to the road as the traffic light changed back to green. Robin shuddered. Keats's behaviour had been getting ever stranger and more bizarre. He shook his head slightly as he realised more than ever that Keats simply couldn't be allowed to continue to live and breathe.

The drive to the hospital seemed to pass far too quickly and before he knew it they were parked outside of the main doors.

"Remember what you have to lose if you screw this up for me," Keats hissed, tucking the bread knife down the side of his trousers and underneath his shirt. Robin could only hope he'd accidentally stab himself with it at some point.

"Don't you think someone's going to notice the handcuffs?" he said crossly.

"No," said Keats. He reached over the back of the seat and pulled Robin's jacket over to their side. "Not when I'll be holding this over that arm."

He dragged Robin awkwardly over the driver's seat from the passenger side and soon they were both standing outside of the hospital entrance. Keats closed and locked the door with a bleep of the key, then turned to Robin, his dark eyes sending him a very serious message. Just that stare made Robin shake but he pulled his courage together as quickly as he could. Too much was riding on this to fail. Too many lives were at risk.

"Aren't you forgetting the grapes?" he hissed as Keats bypassed the gift shop.

"Seem to be out of cash," said Keats.

Robin's heart was beating so hard and so fast as Keats marched him through the corridors of the hospital that he thought it was about to explode. Had he ever felt such fear before in his life? He didn't think so. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down, but that wasn't possible. He focused firmly on watching for opportunities as they walked. Something had to come up. It just had to. How about that plant? Could he grab it and whack Keats over the head? Probably not since the plant looked about three times the size of Robin. What about the vending machine? Maybe he could overload it and send life-threatening amounts of Mars Bars shooting out at high speed to knock him unconscious. _Don't be ridiculous, Robin_ he admonished himself.

There was a yellow warning cone telling of cleaning in progress. Maybe Keats would slip on the wet floor? Or perhaps the trolley full of clean sheets would start spewing blankets at him and smother him to death? His imagination was running away with him now and he knew it. He needed to focus, needed to concentrate on real possibilities.

As they turned another corner Robin finally saw an opportunity opening up ahead of him; a trolley full of medical bits and pieces was standing outside of a ward, a nurse standing beside it collecting up a few items in a metal bowl. Robin tried to scan the trolley as quickly as he could with his eyes, taking in everything there. Surely there had to be something he could use. There were some bandages – maybe he could bandage Keats to death? But it was one of the items that the nurse had collected into the bowl that caught his eye; an extremely sharp pair of medical scissors. It looked as though some stitches were on the cards for some unlucky person. Robin knew this could be his only chance. The scissors felt like fate. As they reached the nurse and she stood back a little to let them pass Robin made a deliberate trip over the wheel of the trolley, falling headlong into the tray and knocking the contents over the floor.

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" he cried as the nurse gave a little gasp of shock.

"Stupid bloody clumsy…" Keats began, _"Oof!"_ he gasped as he found himself tugged down to the floor by Robin who was busy helping the nurse to collect up some of the items. Keats was seriously regretting the whole handcuff idea. He was already certain his wrist was dislocated. His elbow was coming a close second. "When you've quite finished!" he hissed, puling Robin back to his feet.

Robin gave the nurse an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that," he said, his pulse growing even faster as he walked away, scissors in pocket. That was actually the easy part, as far as Robin was concerned. Secreting them in his pocket unnoticed was fairly simple. Robin was pretty skilled in sleight of hand. He'd learnt the technique during his short-lived phase of wishing to become a magician and join the magic circle, a wish that he soon changed his mind about when an incident involving a _rabbit-in-a-hat_ trick left him trying to find homes for 26 baby rabbits and cleaning droppings out of the hat for weeks.

He swallowed as Keats led him crossly through the corridor, muttering things about dislocated wrists. Now he had a weapon the plan seemed so much more real all of a sudden. They were getting closer to Alex's room now. It was a route Robin had walked many times before. There was an officer on the door. His hat seemed too big for his head. Robin was surprised he could even see well enough to stop anyone from entering the room. As they approached Keats hissed,

"This is it, Robin. Mess this up and you're all dead."

"And if I don't mess it up, then what happens?" Robin asked.

Keats gave him a sideways sneer.

"Then I get to visit a dear old friend," he said sarcastically.

Robin's blood began to boil. He could see this alleged _visit_ going one of two ways, either with some general touching up of a comatose Alex or with the breadknife taking Alex's life and therefore most likely giving her an instant transfer to Fenchurch West back in the nineties. Neither was going to happen if Robin had anything to do with it. His old nervous and placid persona had all but died by now. It hadn't been a fast transition; the changes had started from his time in '95 and accelerated quickly during the last couple of months, beginning with Alex seeking his help and with Kim's friendship as a continuing catalyst. But if ever there was a test of strength, then surely this had to be the definitive one.

The officer outside the door looked up at Robin, even though all Robin could see was the man's nose peeping out from under his hat.

"Evening," he said awkwardly, "Just visiting Alex."

"I don't think she'd going to be answering any questionns," the officer said, a little confused.

"No, it's a social visit," Robin said nervously.

"I don't think she's feeling very sociable either," the officer commented but Keats wasn't in the mood for wit and sneered,

"Are you going to let us pass or are you going to find yourself reported to your superior officer for insubordination?"

The officer was a little taken aback by his tone and stood back nervously.

"Go right ahead, sir," he said with a gulp.

Robin hesitated as he thought about his plan. Having an officer outside of the door wasn't exactly going to help when at the first sound of trouble he would be pushing his way into the room and – most likely – pulling Robin away from Keats before he had a chance to ensure he met his end. He coughed a little.

"Listen, take a five minute break" he said, "there are two of us here. No one's going to try anything."

The officer looked nervous.

"I don't go off duty until seven," he said.

"Just trying to do you a favour," Robin shrugged.

The officer thought about his offer for a moment before finally he nodded slowly.

"Cheers," he said, "I mean, thank you sir. Sirs."

He trotted down the corridor jangling the change in his pocket as he went. Keats raised an eyebrow at Robin.

"Well well, what was that about?" he asked.

Robin felt himself reddening. He wasn't very good at lying.

"Just trying to protect myself and Kim," he swallowed, "whatever you're going to do, it's probably not going to be all that silent. I didn't want him coming in and me getting a bread knife through the guts."

"I was planning to slit your throat, actually," Keats said matter of factly. He turned the door handle and stepped inside the room, the chained Robin in tow, and found himself with a quickening heartbeat. There in the bed lay Alex; still, silent, motionless. Her mind and her soul were many years away. Keats felt himself turn breathless as he slowly walked toward her. His mouth grew dry suddenly.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to the handcuffs. He had to free himself from Robin to get what he wanted from the visit. He quickly unfastened the cuff around his wrist and, before Robin could react, he chained him to the adjustable light beside the hospital bed. Robin gave a sigh of frustration and looked from the light to Keats with a scowl. _This wasn't part of the plan!_

"There," said Keats, "you've found yourself a new post in light entertainment." He laughed at his own stupid joke and encroached upon Alex's bed. Her face was so still and pale, her eyes gently closed and her soul so far away but on her lips there was a peaceful smile. A happiness that lurked deep within her. Her soul was happy and thriving. _Not for long,_ Keats told himself.

He peeled back the covers of her bed, leaving her covered only by her hospital smock. _God,_ the temptation. Keats had still not satisfied his other hunger and the thought of taking her right there and then was almost crippling, but before he could give in to his urges a strange dark shape beneath the smock caught his eye. With a frown he parted the smock and moved it to one side where he found, low down on Alex's stomach, a complete circle with a letter 'G' in the centre. He turned to Robin with wide, horrified eyes, clearly thinking that Alex, Robin and Kim had formed some kind of strange, tattooing cult that they were all a part of.

"What… the _fuck_… is that?" he demanded.

Robin swallowed.

"It's called a tattoo, Keats," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "it's a process by which ink is deposited under the skin by a needle."

"I know what one is" Keats spat, practically foaming at the mouth, "I want to know why _she's_ got one!"

Robin shrugged.

"She's over eighteen," he said, boldly.

"Why would someone like Alex get a…" he looked back at the tattoo and felt deeply, horribly sick. He knew why she had the tattoo. There was no doubt in his mind what that letter represented. He felt his blood boiling as his fingers reached out, trembling slightly, and brushed over the inked skin. Robin couldn't stand to see him touch her, he couldn't bear the sight of Keats's fingers daring to sully Alex's skin while she slept so peacefully. He took a deep breath, his pulse thundering in his ears and hissed,

"Hey, Keats?"

Keats glanced around.

"This is a private moment," he sneered but found himself getting more than he bargained for as Robin took a few lunges forward, dragging the adjustable lamp across to the bed with him, striking Keats square in the forhead with the metal shade of the light. Despite the comedy _'clang'_ noise it made and the moment of senselessness Keats just shook his head a little and cried, "stupid little bastard," reaching for the breadknife but Robin's scissors were easier to fish out quickly and, holding them firmly in his hand, he aimed the pointed side at Keats' neck like a knife. With a forceful push he jammed them through his skin, the horrific feeling of plunging metal through flesh and the sickening squelching sound they made bringing Robin to gag horribly. He wasn't sure if the squelching sound was real or in his head but either way he feared he was about to spill bile across the hospital floor.

A scream came from deep within Keats that was as terrifying as anything else that day. It was becoming clear to Robin the one stab wasn't going to do it and he wrenched the blood-stained scissors from his neck ready for another go. With one hand Keats clung to the side of his neck, covering the wound, while with the other he pulled forth the breadknife and sent its blade towards Robin's stomach and chest but a large, jagged bread knife – it seemed – was far better at sawing through ropes than at stabbing someone. The attack left Robin with several nasty, painful slashes across his torso but nothing as deadly as Keats had been anticipating. Robin tried to grit his teeth and push through the pain as he thrust the scissors at Keats again but this time Keats expected it and grasped his wrist.

"You stupid little boy," he spat, mere inches from his face, "you think I'm going to lose my life twice in the same room? Think again."

He grabbed the scissors from him and turned toward Alex leaving Robin with the terrible realisation that he was about to offer her that transfer. Blocking out his pain, he pulled at his wrist, trying to get away from the lamp but all that happened was that the lamp followed him back and forth across the room.

"_Gah!"_ he cried in frustration, pulling harder and faster until one part if the metal made a horrible groaning noise and finally a screw flew out and the heavy head of the lamp fell from the joint, dragging Robin's wrist down with it. He groaned and took a moment to compose himself before he stood up, clutched the lamp with both hands and used it to strike Keats hard in the head. For a second his eyes rolled back in his sockets and he tumbled backwards, knocked out just long enough for Robin to reach into his pocket and grab the key. As he freed his hand from the lamp he saw Keats's eyes opening again and knew he had to act quickly. He grasped the breadknife and tried to bring it towards his throat but Keats reached out with both hands to block it and held it at bay. For some time control of the knife hung in the balance, one pushing it downwards, the other pushing it away; a battle of strength and a battle of wills that it seemed no one would ever win. The strain showed on Robin's face as he grimaced, pushing the blade with as much strength as he could muster. The blade cut into Keats's hands but he somehow seemed to override the pain. Until finally he could stand it no longer and he rolled out for underneath it, leaving Robin and the knife to fall to the ground.

"For fuck's sake, just _die_ will you?" Robin cried. He began to pick himself up from the ground, knife still in hand but turned to see Keats coming towards him with the scissor. "_Shit!"_

The scissors grazed Robin's cheek but he scrambled out of the way before they could reach their intended target and he lashed out with the knife, using it like some kind of sword. It struck Keats in the face which caused him to scream and recoil, clutching his cheek and yelling a string of obscenities as the scissors flew from his hand. This was it, Robin realised. This was surely the last chance he had. He threw the knife away and scrambled for the scissors as Keats threw himself on top of Robin with his pull force and punched his face so hard that the back of his head struck the hard floor. Robin wasn't sure how he stayed conscious – he felt certain he was about to see stars circling his head, but he was still wide awake and coherent enough to see Keats's malevolent sneer lowering towards his face.

"Waste of blood and waste of space," he spat at Robin as his hands reached around his neck but Robin still had the scissors firmly in his grasp and this time as he jammed them into Keats's neck there was a power, a fight and a rage inside of him that gave him the strength to keep on going, pushing them deeper, thrusting them again and again. Has the grasp on his neck began to loosen and his own actions became more forceful he heard a strange gurgling noise emanating from Keats's throat. When he finally opened his eyes he saw Keats's own eyes were wide, terrified and gaping like his open mouth. His features flickered. For just a moment, the crusty skin of Layton took over once again, like a TV switching between stations. One last, hard thrust of the scissors and Keats gave a strangled gasp before collapsing on top of Robin's blood-stained body. He pushed the man away and scrambled to his feet, watching the blood pouring from his wound while a chocking splutter came from his mouth. His features flickered again as the gasping began to slow and Robin took another step backwards. His heart was pounding and his whole body trembling. He gasped for air, his lungs unable to give him all that his body screamed for, as he watched the twitching body before him slowly become still and silent.

He stared. His eyes were fixed upon Keats's motionless form. He swallowed and trembled as he knelt beside him and felt, nervously, for a pulse. The moment he realised there was none was the strongest moment of relief he'd felt in his life. He swallowed, closed his eyes and turned his head to the ceiling, as though thanking some non-existent hospital god for supplying the scissors and for bringing the end to his fight but as he did so he began to feel something. To his horror, the pulse was slowly returning. It was weak but it was there.

"No," he whispered, "no, you're dead, I…" his eyes turned to Keats on the ground and a gasp emerged from his lips. As he watched, the defined features faded before him and crumbling, crusty ones took their place. He swallowed and felt his heart racing even faster as the wound on the side of his neck began to heal before him, the blood disappearing and his neck complete and whole once again. In shock, he scrambled backwards, panting anxiously as he tried to process what was happening. It took him several moments to figure out what was happening and how it was even possible until the truth struck him with the force of a ten ton weight. Yes, he _had_ killed Keats. He'd killed the devil who'd found his way back to the real world. But he hadn't killed Layton.

Keats had taken over his body completely. Now that Keats was dead, Layton had taken control again. He was still, silent and unconscious, but he had none of the wounds that Robin had inflicted – because he had inflicted them upon Keats.

Robin had killed a man who no longer existed; a man who had no rightful claim to a flesh and blood body.

The realisation shocked him deeply. He shook for a moment, unsure what to do next, until eventually he pulled together his strength and realised that there was another leg of the journey still ahead.

Grabbing his car keys from Keats's pocket he threw open the door and ran into the corridor where the officer with the very large hat was walking back in his direction, three large coffees and a ton of mars bars in his hands.

"Quick!" Robin yelled at him, "get help. Arthur Layton is in that room!"

"What?" the officer couldn't have been more confused if he tried.

Robin tossed him the key to the handcuffs.

"There are some cuffs already in there," he breathed, "chain him the fuck up and get him some medical attention." He began to race away, his legs like jelly and barely supporting him.

"Wait!" the officer cried, "sir, where are you going? What's going on?"

Robin didn't have time to explain.

"I need back up!" he cried, "radio for assistance. Send cars to the barge that Alex Drake was found in. And possibly an ambulance." He paused. "Better send the bomb squad too."

"The…. _Wait!"_ the officer cried. He glanced from Robin to the state of the hospital room through the door and almost had a heart attack. "Oh bloody hell!" he shook his head. "How the hell am I going to explain this to my sergeant?" he wondered and reached for his radio. Not for the first time he wished he'd taken a different career path. Travel agent maybe? Or flower arranging. That seemed like a nice, safe career. You encounter fewer mad men that way. Still it was too late now. It was time to make the strangest call for back up he'd ever made in his life.


	21. Chapter 20: Blood, Boats & Bowie

**Chapter 20**

Robin's muscles felt weak as he ran from the hospital and out to his car. It wasn't until he was almost at the exit that he realised how much blood he was losing. Although none of the cuts to his chest or his stomach had been serious they had all been bleeding steadily and his white shirt was now dripping with blood and dark red all over. The pain started to register a little more now too but he tried to ignore it. His job wasn't over yet. He needed to make sure Kim and Molly were safe. Until then, his job was only half done.

He jumped in the car only to find the radio sprung instantly to life with more _Wham _warblings. He screamed and thumped at the controls. The radio station changed as he turned the key in the ignition and began to accelerate away from the hospital at Gene Hunt speed, sending honking ambulances left and right, tooting their horns in anger.

He focused all his concentration on the road ahead. His head was swimming and he felt dizzy and faint. He hated to imagine how much blood he had already lost. There was no time to think about that now. There was too much still riding on this.

Through the radio David Bowie played at an almost intolerable volume. He realised he must have hit the volume control at the same time as changing the station but he didn't turn it down. The louder the music, the more it kept him focused and awake. The lyrics bore deep into his mind as the music played. It felt as though the song held a message for him. It told the story of the day, of all he'd been through.

"Why does Bowie always pop up when you least expect him?" Robin muttered to himself.

_# …He swivels his head_

_Tears his eyes from the screen_

_As his past puts him back_

_in Atlantic City_

_There's not even a demon_

_in Heaven or Hell_

_Is it all just human disguise_

_As I walk down the aisle… #_

Robin shuddered so deeply at the lyrics that he almost lost control of the car and some angry driver honked at him. _Is it all just a human disguise?_ He breathed deeply as he thought about Keats somehow finding his way into Layton's body. He shook his head in disbelief that the whole thing had even happened. He couldn't bring himself to think about it for long. It sent his stomach churning.

_# …And I'm gone gone gone_

_Now I'm older than movies_

_Let me dance away_

_Now I'm wiser than dreams_

_Let me fly fly fly_

_While I'm touching tomorrow_

_And I know who's there_

_When silhouettes fall… #_

Was this it, he wondered? Was this his purpose in life? If there had been a reason that he'd had to stay in this world instead of being with Simon then had he fulfilled it now? Surely defeating Keats's plans – such as they were – earned him the right to be with the man he loved again, didn't it?

_# …And I'm gone_

_Like I'm dancing on angels_

_And I'm gone_

_through a crack in the past_

_Like a dead man walking_

_Like a dead man walking… #_

The lyrics were almost choking him now. _Gone through a crack in the past like a dead man walking?_ That set Robin thinking about something else, something that he hadn't even considered until that moment. With a gasp of horror he whispered to himself,

"_My god… where is he now?"_

His eyes closed just for a moment as he remembered what Kim had told him about Keats's coma.

"Shit… I've sent him back."

He shook his head angrily as he realised what had happened – but then, what alternative did he have? The game of Keats tennis was continuing… back and forth, back and forth…

_#' …Two young men dancing under the lamplight_

_Shaking their sex and their bones_

_And the boys that we were_

_An alien nation in therapy_

_Sliding naked and new_

_Like a bad tempered child_

_On a rain slicked street… #_

The windscreen wipers moved back and forth as a few droplets of rain hit. How far away was he now? Was he even going in the right direction? He felt so weak now that he could hardly stay upright and awake. _Got to focus. Got to concentrate._ He didn't know how much time Kim and Molly had left if the bomb was real – and even if it wasn't, what kind of a state would he find them in by the time he got there?

_# …And I'm gone gone gone_

_And I'm older than movies_

_Oh let me dance dance dance_

_Now I'm wiser than dreams_

_Let me fly fly fly_

_While I'm touching tomorrow_

_And I know who's there_

_When silhouettes fall_

_And I'm gone… #_

"Come on, come on," he hissed to himself. Flashes of Keats's sneering face played through his mind over and over; the horrifying encounter that could have ended so much worse and the strange turnaround that had occurred. It made no sense to Robin. He'd been in such a state of fear that he remembered little about the whole thing now and trying to piece the fragments of the day together got him nowhere.

_# …And I'm gone, like I'm dancing on angels_

_And I'm gone,_

_through the crack in the past_

_Like a dead man walking_

_Like a dead man walking_

_Like a dead man_

_Like a dead man walking… #_

Robin could stand the lyrics no more. They were taunting him, torturing him, reminding him of the day all over again. He thumped at the radio and changed station. For a horrible moment he feared that he may have put it back on the _Wham _station but thankfully a thoroughly more recent song, _Bigger than us_ by White Lies started to play loudly.

"That's more like it," Robin mumbled to himself. He was seeing spots before his eyes now and his head was swimming, He knew he was close by; he just had to keep going for a few moments more. The music helped him to focus and to push on through the pain and the fingers of unconsciousness that were trying to drag him down. He thought about Kim, he could still hear her screams in his head from where she had watched Keats dragging him away. He thought about the strange, intense hours on the boat; Kim helping him through the trigger song, their realisations about Robin and his mortality, the strange and unexpected kiss – after all of that, everything they'd been through, he wasn't going to lose her now.

_# …You took the tunnel route_ _home,_

_you've never taken that way with me before._

_Did you feel the need for change?_

_Apologies on your fingernails,_

_love flickered in the city of lights,_

_Like intermittent radio waves… #_

He was close. He was almost there. He remembered this road. The boat wasn't far away and his heart began to speed up as he thought about it. Was the journey almost over in more ways than one? Was this really his destiny? And if so… if so, why was there a tiny part of him that suddenly didn't feel ready to go?

_# …I don't need your tears_

_I don't want your love_

_I just gotta get home… #_

He found tears falling from his eyes now. He had never felt so strange; so mixed up, so fearful, so confused or so unsure but at the same time he'd never felt so determined or so absolutely focused. The whole day had torn him apart – it had shattered everything he thought he knew. Something even bigger was brewing. Something that was bigger than he knew how to cope with. He could feel it. He wiped his eyes roughly with his blood-soaked sleeve wiping red staining across his face and gripped the wheel a little tighter.

_# …And I feel like I'm breaking up,_

_and I wanted to stay,_

_Headlights on the hillside,_

_don't take me this way,_

_I don't want you to hold me,_

_I don't want you to pray,_

_This is bigger than us... #_

He hadn't appreciated until right then how much more he had in his life than he realized before. He'd spent his life a near-loner, almost always by choice. Aside from Simon he'd never really let anyone get close to him, and only now was he starting to understand why. His history, his family…. It had made him scared of having special people in his life. And the only special person he did have, he'd lost. But it was too late now – his life was changing. He sure as hell wasn't going to lose someone else.

_# …You went where the horses_ _cry,_

_you've never taken that way with me before._

_Did you feel the need for change?_

_Guilt smeared across your lips,_

_I was tired and cold from the window_

_You're cold, nothing has changed… #_

He drew to a halt as the road reached its end and the boat was calling. He took a few deep breaths, begging his strength and his body to hold out a little longer. He was almost there, he was so close. He wasn't going to let Kim down now. With one last breath for courage he threw open the door of the car and left it just how it was. He heard the music playing as he ran towards the boat, the voice becoming more distance with every pace. He told himself firmly that when he heard the music again he'd know that he was close to safety, and that the ordeal was over.

_# …I don't need your tears_

_I don't want __your love_

_I just gotta get home… #_

He was almost there now. The boat was so close, with Kim and Molly within it. The sound of the music faded and disappeared as he came ever closer. This was it.

~xXx~

"Come on… come _on…_" Kim hissed as she worked tirelessly at the ropes. Keats leaving his knife behind had been a moment of sheer luck and it had taken her several moments to shuffle close enough to take it in her hands. She gripped it between them and rubbed it back and forth against the rope, over and over. She'd been working at it for almost an hour when finally the last of the rope frayed and gave up its hold on her wrists. She gave a huge gasp of relief and dropped the knife, flexing her arms and trying to get some feeling back into them. Once her hands were free she was able to untie her legs fairly quickly.

"Molly," she called out, "Molly, I'm free… I'm coming to untie you, OK? We're getting you out of here."

She slowly got to her feet but stumbled. The lack of food and water had left her weak and lightheaded and being tied up in one position for hours had fixed her limbs awkwardly. Unable to take full control of her body she tripped over the abandoned radio which sent her hurtling forward with a cry of fear which turned into a scream of pain as she tried to stop herself from falling too hard and her arm caught awkwardly against the floor of the boat. _"Shit!"_ she screamed, howling as her elbow hurt beyond compare, "my fucking arm!" she realized that she was swearing in front of Molly again and tried to backtrack. "I mean, my bloody arm. I mean…" she closed her eyes and gave a silent weep. Did it matter what she meant? The fact was she'd done something awful to her elbow and she was in seven shades of agony. She tried to scramble to her feet, holding her arm gently as she did so and made her way to Molly. "Molly, I'm here," she hissed, "I'm going to untie you." But as she reached out her elbow was too painful to even attempt it, _"Shit!"_

The sound of footsteps thundering towards the barge caused Kim to freeze and Molly to whimper in fear, both expecting Keats to have returned. The sound of Robin's voice was unexpected and sent a wave of relief through Kim, the likes of which she had never felt before.

"_Kim?"_

"_Robin?"_ she cried. She scrambled to her feet and staggered towards him where she threw herself against him, just desperate to feel that he was still alive, still safe. She'd thought the worst, she truly had. She pressed herself against his chest, breathing heavily. She could feel his heart beating. That brought her to close her eyes, the relief washing over her again.

Robin blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness of the boat.

"Kim, we've got to get out of here now," he cried, "Keats says he's left a bomb on the boat."

"What?" Kim cried.

"It could be a bluff," said Robin, "I'm not taking any chances."

"Rob, I can't untie Molly," Kim said a little desperately, "I've fucked up my elbow," she bit her lip, "I mean I buggered up my…" she gave a loud groan. "My elbow is busted up!" she declared.

"Molly," Robin had almost forgotten about her. He knelt down beside her and quickly pulled off her gag. She choked and spluttered a few times as he began to fumble with her knots and untethered her from the side of the boat. Her knots didn't seem to be as intricate as the ones Keats had used on him and Kim. "Molly, we have to get out of here now," he said, but as Molly started to get to her feet her legs gave way beneath her.

"_Ow!"_ she whimpered.

"What's wrong?" Robin asked quickly.

"My legs," Molly cried, "they're numb…"

Kim looked at Robin.

"She's been lying in one place for hours," she said.

Robin took a deep breath. He wasn't sure he had enough strength left for this, but he didn't see any other way.

"Right," he said through gritted teeth and scooped up the girl the best that he could. He staggered a little, his legs almost buckling beneath him but he closed his eyes for a moment and gathered up every bit of strength and determination he had left in his body. _Just listen for the music,_ he told himself as he set one foot in front the other, taking strong, sturdy paces, _as soon as you hear the music you know you'll be alright._

With Kim following quickly by his side he began to head towards the headlights of the car. They were his focus. They were his direction. He knew where to go. For now, they were all he could see.

As he drew closer the sound of music began to filter through his ears. _Almost there… I'm almost there…_ his heart was beating harder and his strength starting to fail, but he kept on going, he knew that he had no choice. It was all that he could do. It was his destiny.

_# …And I feel like I'm breaking up,_

_and I wanted to stay,_

_Headlights on the hillside,_

_don't take me this way,_

_I don't want you to hold me,_

_I don't want you to pray,_

_This is bigger than us... #_

There he was now, the car right before him. Bathed in the light of the headlights, he could hear distant sirens as help was on the horizon. For the first time Kim caught sight of his shirt and gasped in horror.

"_Rob, look at you… your shirt… oh my God…"_

But Robin could barely hear. There was a thumping in his head and deafening pulse ringing in his ears. As the final chorus of the song played out he felt himself sink to his knees where he lay Molly on the ground, in front of the car. Drops of rain fell from the ends of his fringe onto his nose. He took one deep breath. Another. Then he closed his eyes.

_# …And I feel like I'm breaking up,_

_and I wanted to stay,_

_Headlights on the hillside,_

_don't take me this way,_

_I don't want you to hold me,_

_I don't want you to pray,_

_This is bigger than us... #_

The last chorus ended as the last of his strength ebbed away and his torso came crashing down to the ground. The mud and the rain soiled his bloodstained shirt even further and the sound of Kim screaming was the final sound that he heard before darkness, blackness, overcame him. The last thing he felt was somebody taking his hand. Then a mess of blue lights and sirens smothered the night.


	22. Chapter 21: Dads, Destiny & Dead Watches

**Chapter 21**

The first thing he heard was the bleeping of machines. It was dark… well, no, it wasn't dark… his eyes were closed, that was all. Why wasn't he opening them? Maybe… maybe because he wasn't sure he wanted to. Where was he exactly? He remembered the barge and the headlights of the car, he could feel the wet ground as he sank to his knees. His chest was stinging, throbbing, and his whole body felt drained and weak. Where was he? And further to that – where did he want to be?

He could feel someone holding his hand, right there and then. That was the last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness too. So slowly he opened his eyes, the harsh hospital lights a contrast to the never-ending stretch of darkness he'd just been inside of. He slowly turned his head to one side where a small, grubby hand was holding his own. There was a tattoo of a dragon curling around its wrist.

"Kim?"

Robin was shocked by how weak his own voice sounded. He tried to clear his throat but it was so dry he only made it worse. His eyes travelled up from the hand to an arm and final up to Kim's face. She was damp and dirty and her face looked drawn and haunted. Her chopped-off locks were scruffy and pointing in all directions. She seemed so small without all that hair somehow. As her eyes turned to him and she realised that he was awake her expression seemed to morph back and forth between joy and despair.

"I tried to stop them," she whispered.

Robin wasn't sure what she meant.

"Stop who?" he frowned.

"I told them you didn't want to be resuscitated but they wouldn't listen," Kim looked tearful and traumatised. "I'm so sorry, Robin."

Robin closed his eyes slowly. Kim should never even have to take responsibility for something so big. And while a part of him ached and yearned to have crossed to the other side - the part that was screaming with frustration at being kept apart from Simon, even after all he'd just fought for - there was a part of him that felt glad to still be alive. That was new. It took him by surprise. He wasn't even sure how to handle that.

He tried to adjust himself a little in bed. There was no horrid hospital smock for him right then, instead his body was dressed only in bandages, some of which seemed to be seeping. His chest and his stomach throbbed and hurt so much that he wanted to scream.

"Fuck… God, my body," he whispered.

"You've got a fair few stiches, Rob," Kim said, roughly wiping her eyes, "they're thinking of publishing your photo in Embroidery Monthly."

Robin tried to laugh but the motion hurt his chest and he flinched. He noticed that his other hand had been fitted with a cannula into which a bag of blood was flowing. He must have lost more than he'd realised. He turned to Kim again and asked,

"How long have I been out for?"

"I'm not sure," Kim said quietly, "my watch stopped."

"Mine never worked in the first place," Robin commented quietly. He noticed her arm in a sling and asked, "how's your elbow?"

"I dislocated the bugger," Kim sighed, "the treatment wasn't exactly pleasant." She paused, "for the doctor."

Robin frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Kim bit her lip.

"I managed to punch him twice," she said guiltily.

Robin took a few deep breaths. He felt so strange, almost as though he wasn't quite there. Maybe they'd given him painkillers? Or perhaps it was the blood loss? He squeezed Kim's hand a little harder and said,

"How's Molly?"

"Dehydrated," Kim said quietly, "got a few rope burns, but she'll be fine. They're keeping her in overnight for observation." She looked at him seriously, "they found a pretty poorly constricted, unfinished bomb outside the barge, Rob. He was bluffing about blowing up me and Molly, but…" she shook her head and sighed, "he had actually tried to build a bomb so someone was going to be for it sooner or later."

"Shit," Robin sighed.

Kim looked at him with anxious eyes. She chewed nervously on her lip and sounded like a scared little girl as she asked.

"Rob? Did he… did Keats…?" she couldn't even finish her sentence. Her heart broke even thinking about it. At first Robin wasn't sure what she was asking but soon the look in her eyes gave it away.

"Oh no, _no,"_ he shook his head, "No, Kim, he didn't." He watched her close her eyes and whisper a silent prayer of relief as he continued, "he had every intention of it… It was the worst thing I've ever been through… but something stopped him."

"What do you mean?"

Robin wasn't sure himself.

"I don't know," he sighed as the awful memories started to wash over him, "he stole a photo of my parents and just started going crazy, smashing up my room."

"What?"

"I couldn't understand what was happening," Robin flinched at the memory, "one minute he was ripping my clothes off and the next he was just going crazy, trashing everything."

"But he didn't…?"

Robin shook his head.

"No, he didn't," he said quietly.

Kim couldn't begin to express the relief that she felt. For a terrible hour on the barge she had thought the very worst. Whatever it was that saved Robin, she was just forever thankful that Keats hadn't gone through with it.

"What happened after that, Rob?" she asked quietly, "they say Layton is back in hospital, unconscious… some cop in a big hat has been hauled in for questioning about how he let Layton in Alex's room without recognising him."

"It's a very long story," Robin told her, "I think I need to understand it a bit better myself before I try to explain it to you."

Kim nodded slowly.

"Of course," she whispered. She began to look a little awkward, almost as though she couldn't meet his gaze for a moment. She cleared her throat and he felt her palms become moist with perspiration. "Rob… the Kiss," she said quietly.

Robin looked at her nervously. He felt every bit as awkward as she did. Even though the kiss had been initiated by Kim and he hadn't kissed her back he couldn't understand why he hadn't pushed her away or drawn back.

"Can… can we forget that ever happened?" he asked quietly.

Kim's eyes closed with a sense of relief.

"Oh, I'm so glad you said that," she breathed, "yes please. I'd like to do that very, very much."

Robin bit his lip. He felt a churning in his stomach as he said,

"I just wish… I wish I understood… why though," he began awkwardly, a little embarrassed to even ask. He saw Kim hang her head. He'd never seen her cheeks turn that colour before.

"I thought we were forgetting the kiss," she said.

Robin looked at her.

"We are," he said, "I just…" he fumbled for words, "I was just confused how…" he closed his eyes and let out his breath, then shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said quietly. He tried to smile but it was a little crooked. "We'll forget it."

Kim's brow furrowed.

"I'm every bit as confused as you are, Rob," she admitted quietly, I have no idea what happened."

"It was an intense situation," Robin gave a slight shrug, "we were both scared and didn't know what was going on. And that song probably got you all confused. It was one of those things."

"One of those things," Kim repeated with a thin smile, but she only wished that she could understand how it even happened.

A nurse came through the doorway and gave Robin a warm smile.

"Back with us, Mister Thomas?" she said.

"That's Shoebury-Thomas," Robin sighed, "look, it's on my bank card and everything, why does no one ever get it…" he sighed, "give me the bloody chart and I'll write it in myself…"

"Uh… that's OK, I'll correct it on the system," the nurse said a little nervously. She turned to Kim. "And you're supposed to be in your room."

"My elbow did not require a whole bed," Kim told her.

"No but your cardiac incident did."

Robin turned to Kim, his eyes open wide with anxiety.

"Your what?"

Kim shook her head.

"Nothing," she said.

"Needing to use the defibrillator is not 'nothing'," the nurse reminded her.

Kim raised her top lip in a mocking gesture.

"I signed the form, I discharged myself, end of story," she said.

Robin breathed heavily as he looked at Kim. He felt his pulse rate rising and his mouth became very dry.

"Kim, what the hell?" he asked.

Kim just shook her head. This wasn't the time.

"I'll tell the doctor that you're awake," the nurse told Robin.

"Nurse," Robin said quickly, "before you go… Arthur Layton?"

The nurse sighed.

"He's regained consciousness," she said, "seems to be suffering amnesia. No memory of anything that happened since the car accident that put him in his coma initially."

Robin looked a little awkward.

"He… he stole a photograph from my flat," he said, "it's the only one I have of my parents. He had it in his trouser pocket. Big enlargement, folded in half. Man and woman, she's wearing a flowery top. Is there any chance…" he trailed off, looking at her hopefully and the nurse nodded.

"I'll see what I can do," she said.

Robin breathed a sigh of grateful relief.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Kim looked a little sheepish as the nurse left the room. She tried to look away, to not let Robin catch her eye, but there were questions coming her way.

"Wonder if they'll let you out tonight," she said, trying to change the subject.

"Well if not I guess I can just _sign some forms_," Robin told her, "when were you going to tell me your heart stopped?"

Kim closed her eyes.

"Look, Rob, it's not a big deal," she tried to say.

"What _happened?_" Rob demanded, I remember you hurt your arm, but…"

"Please –"

"Kim, it's _me,"_ Robin looked at her seriously, "come on."

Kim looked down she breathed deeply for a few moments before she whispered,

"It was when they were reviving you, OK?" She could feel his eyes upon her. "They said they had to try to bring you back because you didn't have a legal DNR order. I started to feel…" she shook her head slowly. "I don't know. Something wasn't right and then the pain…" She closed her eyes. "The next thing I remember, I was on my way to hospital in the ambulance."

"Shit," Robin's heart was racing, "Why… I mean, what happened…?"

Kim shook her head.

"They don't know," she said, "they want to do _tests_," she pulled a face.

Robin's expression fell as he stared at her.

"They never found out why my heart stopped either," he whispered, "after Alex's accident." He swallowed as he tried not to think about what his mind was trying to impress on him.

"I don't want to think about this now, Robin," Kim said quietly, "I just want to make sure you're OK, get a shitload of painkillers for this elbow and go home."

Robin closed his eyes.

"I never want to go home again," he whispered. The thought of returning to the flat that Keats had sullied turned his guts.

Kim felt awful. The look on Robin's face made her heart sink. She recalled her time in 1995 and the way she felt about going back to her home after Keats had left her, tied and gagged, on her bed. She understood only too well why he wouldn't want to return.

"Oh god, Rob," she sighed, "I wish I could offer you a bed but I'm going to be in enough trouble with Linda as it is for getting myself kidnapped and tied up."

"Is she coming home now?" Robin asked.

Kim nodded.

"She's been frantic," she said, "I think this is going to take me even more flowers and chocolates to get out of than the Alex thing."

Robin looked a little guiltily at her.

"Are you going to be OK?" he asked.

Kim bit her lip.

"Linda's not thrilled about me going back to the force," she said quietly, "she doesn't understand. Doesn't get when it's in your blood. I don't think this is exactly going to enhance my argument."

"I'm sorry," Robin said quietly. He tried to think of something more constructive to say but he didn't really have any advice. He and Simon had never really been in that position, they'd both understood. Luckily before the silence became too awkward the nurse returned to the room and held out a large photograph.

"Is this your picture, Robin?" she asked.

Robin glanced up. A wave of sheer relief and thankfulness washed over him as the familiar sight of his mother in a flowery top smiled back at him,

"That's it," he smiled, "thank you. Thank you _so_ much." He knew it would most likely have been taken for evidence otherwise and he didn't want to risk losing it forever.

"There were two more photos in his pocket," the nurse told him, "are these yours?"

She handed Robin two pictures. The first one was half a photo, torn down the middle and half discarded. The existing half showed a reluctant Kim at the anti-beard awards. He sighed as he recognised it, then glanced at Kim.

"Yeah, that's mine," he said, "I suppose I won't be displaying our _anti-Evan stance_ with pride any more."

"Maybe the magazine will send you a copy?" Kim suggested, "the local paper does that. They once took a photo of me pretending to hate a new bus stop and I got a free copy."

Robin shrugged.

"Worth asking, I suppose," he said. He turned to the second photograph, an older picture of a man and a woman, neither of whom were looking particularly happy. "That one's not mine," Robin handed it back to the nurse with barely a glance.

The nurse frowned.

"It's the same man," she said.

"It's not my photo, said Robin.

The nurse hesitated.

"Are you sure?"

Robin was feeling tired and frustrated.

"I've never seen that photo in my life," he sighed, closing his eyes as exhaustion took the fight from is body, "it's not mine."

The nurse felt a little taken aback. She took another look at the photograph, then back at the one of his parents that Robin was clutching for dear life. She looked a little awkward.

"Sorry, Robin," she said quietly, "Thought it was another family picture. It looked just like your father." She turned the picture over where in Keats's meticulously neat handwriting the words _'Mum and Dad, 1971'_ were written. She walked from the room, leaving Kim to look worriedly at the tired Robin.

"I think you need sleep," she said.

"Wishing nightmares on me again?" Robin asked.

Kim gave him a weary smile.

"Never," she said quietly. She leaned towards him, stood up and gave him a very gentle one-armed hug. He'd looked at her in surprise as she stood back again.

"What was that for?" he asked.

Kim gave Robin smile laden with emotion.

"You kept me sane," she said quietly.

Robin's mouth twitched into a distant smile.

"You did the same for me," he said quietly.

"Guess we're even then," Kim said quietly. She began to walk towards the door but Robin caught her hand as she walked.

"Hey," he said quickly.

Kim looked at him.

"Hmm?"

Robin hesitated.

"By the car," he said quietly, "when I," he felt a little stupid, "_collapsed."_ He looked at her seriously, "did you hold my hand?"

Kim looked at him and slowly shook her head.

"No," she said, "I… I kind of panicked. I screamed and ran to the ambulance, showed them where to find you." She paused. "why?"

Robin's heart gave a strange flutter as he thought about the sensation he felt, someone taking his hand as he dropped to the ground. There had been a strange feeling… somewhere in the back of his mind… something he'd tried to keep at bay. His mind ran over other possibilities – maybe it was a paramedic, maybe Molly had done it…

No, he knew whose hand it was.

_I was almost there. Again._

A strange warmth flooded his chest as he thought about it. Again he was so close to Simon, and yet _still_ they were not together. He could see now why he had not stayed in 1995 – he had to return to send Alex home. He could see why he wasn't allowed to go to be with Simon even after the car accident – he had to come back to stop Keats. But why was he still there now? What more was there for him to do?

He was too tired and too confused to wonder or to worry about it. He looked at Kim with extreme fondness and smiled. No matter what they had been through, they'd survived. He was sure many people wouldn't have. He had lingering worries – Kim's cardiac incident, Keats's disappearing wounds as he morphed back, his violent reaction to the photo of Robin's parents and the kiss Kim couldn't explain – but if they could survive the combination of Keats and Layton all mixed up in one package of evil malevolence then they could just about survive anything, no matter what came ahead.

Kim stared at Robin from the doorway as he fell asleep before her eyes. She couldn't stop her stomach churning with anxious thoughts. The day had thrown her into more of a tailspin than she'd realised until now. She tried to swallow down the nervousness building inside of her. It was more than the horror of what Keats had subjected them to; the kidnapping, being tied up, the constant _Wham_ records on repeat – it went way beyond that. Something far more profound happened that day Something Kim wasn't ready to deal with yet. Memories of voices calling her as the pain swelled in her chest, the pull of a world left behind so long ago and the strange way she'd felt ever since she saw something different in Robin's eyes. They all left her feeling lost, confused and well and truly out of her depth.

She supposed that, for now, she would just have to take those worries a step at a time. They would still be there tomorrow. And – heart permitting – so would she.


	23. Chapter 22: Evil, Evan & Explanations

**Chapter 22**

"You've not been back since it happened?"

Robin's hand trembled as he turned the key in the lock.

"No," he said quietly.

"Where have you been sleeping?" Kim asked.

"I spent a couple of nights on Kelly's couch," said Robin, "and one of Simon's sisters put me up for a night."

"Funny, I had visions of you sleeping in the kennels," Kim teased as Robin opened the door.

"Cheeky cow," he commented, his spirits falling again at the slight of the flat. The light was still on in the hallway and a trail of dirt was clear to see through from the front door to the bedroom. "Shit," he breathed. He felt Kim's hand on his shoulder. He was grateful for that.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Kim asked quietly.

"I can't put it off forever," Robin said quietly. He slowly walked through to the bedroom where the overwhelming stench of stale vomit made them both gag and choke.

"Oh, what the fuck is that?" Kim cried, covering her nose and mouth with her sleeve.

"The bastard threw up," Robin swallowed to stop himself doing the same thing, "on my lovely fucking rug!"

"Robin, the severe emphasis of the word _'fucking;'_ is lost when used between the words _'lovely' _and _'rug'_," Kim teased as they surveyed the room. She felt her insides turning over at the sight of the place. There were pieces of rope laying on the bed and Robin's ripped shirt on the floor. It turned her cold from head to toe. "Oh Rob," she whispered as she knelt over it.

Robin swallowed hard. He took a slow step towards the TV where his DVDs were strewn around the place.

"He just went crazy, Kim," he whispered, "he flipped out." His eyes ran along the empty shelf where all his boxes and knickknacks had been pushed to the floor. "The insurance will cover the damage, but…" he exhaled, "who's going to replace my love of this flat?"

Kim slowly picked up Robin's ripped shirt. She was shocked by the tears that sprang to her eyes. She stared at him as he stood, looking around him. How had he escaped Keats's terrifying intentions? She shook her head in horror. He actually would have stooped to that. With each trip back and forth, from life to death and so on, he seemed to become more twisted and more demented.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Robin turned to her. His face was pale and his eyes were haunted.

"I can't do it, Kim," he whispered.

"Do what?"

"Sleep in this room," Robin said quietly, "I can't… I just can't be here any more." He closed his eyes and desperately wanted to sit down but couldn't bring himself to sink onto the bed; the bed where he'd been chained and mauled. "This was my _home,"_ he whispered, "this was the place I'd come back to every day after work, the place where I knew I had all the food I needed to make whatever I pleased, the place where I knew my couch would be the comfiest place to watch TV, the place where I knew all my stuff was close around me. This is the place Simon came back to every other day for years… then the place he came home to permanently."

Kim felt her heart sink as he hung his head.

"Rob, I'm so sorry," she said quietly, "and I know there's nothing I can say… nothing's going to change the way you feel about this place now." She knew that for certain, "is there… is there anywhere else you can go?"

"I can't spend my life on sofas and spare rooms," he said quietly.

"I mean, to live?" Kim suggested, "Maybe it's the time to move on? I know you've got a lot of memories here, but…" she paused, "they'll all stay in your head and your heart."

Robin looked at her warily.

"That's a bit poetic for you," he commented.

Kim rolled her eyes.

"OK, well, what about Simon's old flat?" she suggested.

Robin hesitated. He hadn't thought about that. In truth, he'd spent a long time struggling with the thought of setting foot in that flat again, until he and Alex had spent a couple of nights hiding out there. He nodded slowly.

"There is that," he said quietly.

"I know it's further from the station and it might need some work if it'd been empty a long time but you won't have to worry about Keats-cooties. And you'll still have memories there."

Robin gave a distant smile.

"That is true," he said quietly. He gave a slow nod. "I'll think about it," he said. His attention was caught by something on the floor and he knelt down above it. "Ohhh… the frame," he whispered. He took the outside from the pile of glass and sighed. I'll need to find a new one."

"At least you got your picture back," Kim reminded him.

"And a half a picture," said Robin, "Love the way he kept your bit and couldn't stand to leave me in it."

"I wonder whose the other photo was," Kim wondered, "where he took that from."

Robin shrugged.

"Who knows what else he did whole he was on his rampage?" he sighed, "You know, I actually feel kind of sorry for Layton. He's getting asked all these questions about things that he has no idea about and he's going to end up in prison for even longer."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer man," said Kim.

"I just thought it was kind of funny," said Robin, "on the run for years from something he did do but for all these crimes he didn't commit there's a ton of evidence about and he'll never convince a jury otherwise!"

In the aftermath of the whole ordeal Kim and Robin had decided the easiest thing to do was to simply tell try whole truth as it was, simply missing out the one vital detail that Keats was the one who'd committed the crimes. It wasn't as though anyone would believe them anyway. The outcome of this was that Layton found himself charged with 3 counts of abduction, 1 of GBH, 4 counts of vehicle theft, one of attempted rape and one of attempted manslaughter, amongst others.

Evan had recuperated from his brush with Keats, although his beard trimmer had not. He and Molly had gone some way towards reconciling but Molly hadn't come much closer to forgiving him for what had happened with Alex. Her own ordeal had left her shaken but it was the questions that she had for Robin and Kim that were troubling her more than her actual kidnapping. She had asked them several times why they referred to Layton as 'Keats' and also about one or two of the things he had said that tied in with her suspicions after her mother had gone back into a coma. Robin and Kim felt uncomfortable knowing she was getting closer to the truth but it really wasn't their place to tell her.

Kim had found it hard to adjust in the days after their released from the boat. Her relationship had become strained and there was pressure on her from her wife to give up on her intention of rejoining the force. Linda had used a lot of sentences like _I thought I was going to have to tell the boys that you were dead_ or _you don't have to worry about this kind of thing when you're tattooing lions on someone's thigh._ She'd used a lot of lingering, guilt-inducing stares to try to get Kim to back down or change her mind.

But Kim knew that she had no choice. It was in her blood. She needed to get back out there. If anything, the whole ordeal had confirmed that to her. She wasn't sure how much more guilt she could take though, especially when she was also trying to cover up for the kiss that should, by rights, have never happened in a million years. There were lots and lots of flowers, chocolates and apologies but still Kim's guilty conscience seemed to win the day.

Like the aftermath of Alex's return to the nineties, Kim and Robin felt an extreme need to be together. They felt relieved and relaxed when they were in each other's company and became anxious and twitchy when apart. They supposed that, after any intense experience, such a reaction was natural but they couldn't live in each other's pockets forever.

Robin had found himself in a state of sheer confusion for the past few days. His latest brush with the other world had left him confused. Every now and then he stared at his hand as though he expected to find some evidence of Simon's touch upon it, but of course he never found any there.

There were two things that were giving him migraines trying to think about – the first was trying to accept that – however close he'd been to crossing the line – he was still on the side of the living, and that meant that there was another job for him to do, somewhere along the line. He didn't know what that would be, but he knew it couldn't be good. Not going by the level of the previous two. He felt as though he was playing _Grand Theft Auto_ and kept receiving missions before he would complete the game. _Grand Theft Auto: Fenchurch_, he thought to himself. Not quite as catchy as _Vice City._

The second thing that he was having trouble dealing with was his thriving will to live. From the moment he'd awoken after his car accident and been told that Simon hadn't made it he had longed to join him in Gene's world. Every moment of every day had been spent wishing his life away so that he could join him again. Now suddenly he had gone from wanting fate to intervene and take him away to feeling grateful that he had survived. He felt so guilty about that. It wasn't that his will to be with Simon had diminished – but he had a growing, thriving sense of life now. The two didn't sit well together.

"Come on," Kim's voice broke through his thoughts, "let get out this stinky room. Cup of coffee first then we're finding you a bed for a few nights."

She helped him up slowly and he moved awkwardly though to the kitchen. His cuts and stitches still stung and would take some time to heal. He was going to be left with some pretty nasty scars, he knew that much. But it was the emotional ones that would take the longest to fade.

"Sorry," he said as he lumbered a bit like some kind of genetic mutant towards the kitchen.

"God, Rob, the state of you," Kim said quietly, "are you really sure you want me to book you in for that tattoo next week?"

"Yeah," Robin said a little indignantly, "besides, isn't it better to do it while I'm still doped up on painkillers?"

Kim pulled a face.

"Sit," she commanded him.

"You sound like me," said Robin, "ever fancied a job in the canine division?"

Kim's pulled another face.

"I think I'll stick with human company, thanks," she said.

She pushed Robin into a chair at the kitchen table while she filled the kettle and started to boil it. So many questions remained unanswered in the aftermath of Keats's 'holiday'. Neither of them would ever really know how come he had been able to inhabit Layton's body or what his ultimate plans were beyond just trying to spread pain and fear throughout London. Maybe that was all he really wanted to do? There didn't seem to be a coherent strategy behind it.

The bigger pictures were more worrying. Their discussion about Robin and his mortality hadn't been brought up again, but it was dwelling on both of their minds, and more than that neither could shake the parallels with what Kim had been through. The unexplainable heart attack was a carbon copy of what Robin had been through after the crash with Alex.

Kim hadn't told Robin everything. She couldn't bring herself to talk about the voices calling her, or the feeling of being pulled towards them, or the dreams she'd had since. She told herself that Keats's trip to 2011 had just brought back the memories, or hearing the song on the barge had stirred things up again, but she knew it went beyond that. It made her shudder inside to think about it. Through all those years since she awoke in 2003 she'd not seen or heard a thing. She'd even said that to Robin while they were tied up on the barge. Now, suddenly, something changed.

She finished making the coffees and sat down opposite Robin

"Thanks," he said gratefully as he took the cup and warmed his hands against it.

Kim took a sip and burned her tongue on it. She swore and cursed herself for her impatience, then turned her attention to Robin.

"We were on the telly again this morning," she said.

"When are we ever _off_ the telly?" Robin sighed.

"Redeemed beard Model Evan White was thanking us for what we did." Kim said, pulling a face.

Robin choked on his coffee.

"At what point did he become _redeemed_?" he cried.

"I think the being tied up with no trousers on and the emotional plea to get a new beard trimmer went some way towards it," she told him.

Robin shook his head disapprovingly.

"Well that's put me off my coffee!" he said.

Kim stared at him. A serious and stony silence passed.

"You killed Keats," she whispered eventually, "didn't you?"

Robin stared back at her. Since it happened they had avoided that very topic. Kim hadn't asked and Robin hadn't volunteered any information. He felt his heart sink.

"Yes," he said quietly. He wondered for a moment whether she would think badly of him for killing a man and added quickly, "I had to, I didn't have a choice."

"I know, I know," Kim said quickly. She looked at him seriously, "I… I'm just confused… how they found Layton unconscious in Alex's hospital room without a scratch on him."

Robin looked down and breathed deeply. He knew that he would have to tell Kim sooner or later. He felt his guts twisting into knots as he thought about it.

"Kim… I don't know how to explain it," he said quietly.

"Just start at the beginning," Kim told him. She saw him hesitate. "Come on, Rob, you know this is me and I'm not going to call you crazy or think badly of you, however it happened."

Robin felt nauseous. He hadn't let his mind go over the events of that day since it happened. He hadn't dared to. It took all he had to relive it for Kim.

"After he took me from the barge he put me in the car," he said quietly, "drove me here. All the way he tried to taunt me. I wouldn't let him. I had my mind on…" he coughed, "…_other things."_ He knew Kim didn't want to talk about the kiss but nonetheless he felt himself blush a little. "When we got back here he got a breadknife from the kitchen and cut off my ropes. He found my handcuffs and chained me to the bed. All the time his face was…" he shook his head. It sounded so stupid, "his face was morphing back and forth. Layton and Keats. Like he was trying to fight his way out of Layton's body." He looked down and his voice grew weak. "He started to take off my clothes," he choked as he remembered the night, "I thought that was it. I'd fought all I could. It was over." He closed his eyes. "He taunted me about my tattoo and about Simon's picture next to the bed. Then he saw the picture of my mother." He shook his head and Kim started to feel guilty about asking.

"I don't understand how you got from there to the hospital," she whispered.

"He smashed the photo frame," Robin said quietly, "and suddenly he went insane, screaming at me about my father. By now, there was none of Layton left. He was Keats through and through. He smashed everything up and then told me he needed me to get him in to see Alex."

Kim turned cold.

"Oh shit," she whispered, "What… what did he want to…"

"I think he wanted to take her soul," Robin said quietly, "he stole my uniform, made me get dressed again, cuffed us together and drove to the hospital. I stole a pair of scissors from a trolley in the corridor. They were only small, but they were sharp." He saw Kim's eyes staring at him, wide and anxious, "He didn't see. We went past the guard outside the room – I sent him off for coffee. He just thought we were a couple of chief inspectors, he thought Alex would be safe with us." Robin took a deep breath. "Keats saw Alex's tattoo and went a bit mad. I don't know why. Maybe he thought you'd gotten us all into bad habits or something."

Kim gave a little smile.

"That'd be about right," she said.

"He chained me to the light over the bed," Robin continued, "and…" he hung his head a little, "after that it's kind of a blur. I hit him with the lamp… a couple of times, I think. Stabbed him in the neck with the scissors, tried desperately to kill the bastard. He came at me with the knife… we fought and fought and in the end…" he swallowed. "In the end I took his life." He saw Kim staring at him, shocked and silent. "There was no pulse. Nothing. Then suddenly the pulse came back… but so did Layton's features. And Keats… Keats had vanished. So had his wounds."

"God," Kim breathed. She ran a hand nervously through her spikes. She was finding it hard to adjust to her short hair. She'd seen herself with the long, dark locks for so many years that Keats had stolen from her a big part of her image. She'd had what was left of her hair professionally cut and found herself slowly adopting the spikes she'd warn for the latter part of her time in the nineties. It reminded her of someone special. Someone she missed a great deal.

"It all feels so surreal," Robin whispered. He looked her in the eye. "I sent him back, didn't I?"

Kim nodded slowly.

"But you didn't have a choice," she whispered.

"I know," Robin said quietly, "doesn't stop me feeling wretched though."

"You did what you had to do," Kim told him, "and you're not the only one who's had to do it."

Robin sighed.

"No," he said quietly, "I know."

"Simon and Gene have both had to do the same."

Robin nodded.

"I know," he said again.

"You're like an exclusive club," said Kim, "you should have an AGM." She saw Robin try to smile but his heart wasn't in it. He cupped his coffee mug in his hands but didn't drink from it.

"Do AGMs work across dimensions?" he asked, "can't exactly use a video link up."

Kim looked at Robin and her heart jumped a little. There was something else that she needed to say. Something she'd been putting off because it meant having to face something that she'd been trying to bury. She took a deep but jagged breath as tears threatened to fall and whispered;

"Rob?" he looked at her, shocked to see how fast her expression had fallen, "thank you."

Robin frowned.

"What for?"

Kim swallowed.

"You saved me," she said quietly, "you pulled him off me," her voice started to give way. "If you hadn't, he –"

That was the last word she was able to breathe before the full horror of their ordeal came crashing down on her; on both of them. Somehow the seal that held back their emotions was broken suddenly and every moment of terror, every fear, every nightmarish thought came back to them both. For some time all they could do was to sit, to cry, to hold each other and do what they could to block out the memories and flashbacks that would never truly go away. Eventually, as time passed and tears dried both felt just a little bit lighter. So much heavy baggage had come with Keats's arrival and demise that they knew it would be a long time before they could put it to rest.

One man – _one monster_ – had caused untold terror to two worlds, but there was something he could not do and that was to break a strong friendship. Both Robin and Kim felt sure that this wasn't the final battle. That was still to come. Because Keats couldn't be allowed to continue his reign of terror forever – he_ wouldn't_ be allowed to, not when there were people like them, and like Gene and Alex and everyone on the other side of the line to stop him. No one knew where or when the final battle would play out, but one day it would arrive. And on that day Keats would find that strong hearts and wills could outweigh all the power of evil.

The countdown was on.

Evil, bring it on.

**The End**

_**That was the last proper chapter! Whew! But there's an epilogue still to go up tomorrow! -x-**_


	24. Epilogue: Paint, Pictures & The Past

**Epilogue**

Robin peered cautiously through the hallway as the front door swung open.

"What are you afraid of? Monsters?" teased Kim.

"There was a squatter a while ago," Robin told her, "just checking he hadn't come back to enjoy the furnishings again." He shuddered, "I don't want to have to try out fake kung-fu moves on him for a second time."

Kim spluttered with laughter, gaining her an evil look from Robin. She tried to straighten her expression.

"Not funny, not funny," she assured him before smirking again.

She followed him through the hallway clutching a pot of paint and a roller while Robin held a bag full of old sheers and paintbrushes.

"I haven't been back since the morning Alex and I set out to find you," he told her.

"An act you've been regretting ever since," Kim teased.

Rob in poked his tongue out at her and walked through to the lounge. It was left exactly as it had been when he and Alex had been there some weeks earlier. The flipchart still stood in the centre of the room and the DVDs Alex watched during her junk food binge were still piled up by the TV. Robin felt a little pang of sadness.

"I miss her," he said quietly.

He heard Kim give a sigh over his shoulder.

"Me too," she said quietly.

He turned back to look at her and they exchanged a slightly sad smile. It was hard to live a full life, Robin realised, when some of the people you were closest to were on the other side of the line.

"It feels weird being back in here," Robin said quietly. Making the decision to move into Simon's old flat hadn't been an easy one to make. The memories that went with it were difficult to cope with. With each day that passed, he missed Simon a little bit more. Going to his flat, the place he'd gone back to so many nights after work, had felt strange and coated with sadness, but at the same time it seemed fitting. It was as though Simon had left him a legacy, a _get out of jail free_ card for escaping a flat that had been the setting for such a horrible attack and experience. It made sense now why he hasn't been able to sell the flat. Fate had intervened. It was always supposed to be his, one way or another.

The flat was certainly big enough for Robin and he'd always liked the décor. The only thing that he couldn't face was sleeping in Simon's bedroom. It felt wrong. He just couldn't do it without Simon there. He had decided to redecorate that one room and change it enough to make it his without taking away all the memories of Simon.

"As decorators, are we not supposed to start with three cups of tea before we even look at a paintbrush?" Kim asked.

"I don't know about tea," Robin began, "but there's definitely coffee in the kitchen, and a working kettle. No milk though."

"Let's live dangerously and have it black," said Kim as the pair walked through to the kitchen. Almost immediately Robin reeled in horror.

"Oh _eww!"_ he cried.

"What? What's wrong?" cried Kim as Robin hid behind her.

Robin gagged.

"I never did the washing up!" he declared.

There in the sink sat a few dishes and a couple of cups with extremely congealed lasagne, coffee and other food and drink cementing them to the sink.

"I knew you had a dark side," Kim teased as he began rounding them up and dumping them straight in the bin.

"Not even going to attempt to wash those up," Robin shuddered.

Kim looked around the pleasant kitchen. She took a seat at the table and watched Robin find some clean crockery to start making the drinks.

"Howe did I get roped into helping with this anyway?" she demanded.

"Oh come on, you know you fancy yourself as a bit of a Lawrence Llewelyn-Bowen," teased Robin as the kettle began to boil.

Kim watched as he busied himself masking the coffees. She had to admit she was glad of the distraction for an afternoon. Things hadn't been going very well for her since the Keats ordeal and she was desperate for something to take her mind off of it. In the aftermath of her health 'issues' her return to the force had been delayed by a couple of weeks and she'd been on sick leave from her tattooing work as well to let her elbow recover. Being at home hadn't exactly been a barrel of laughs. The distraction was very welcome.

Not for the first time since the day on the barge she found _Moments in Love_ going around in her head and it made her sigh. That wasn't exactly helping matters. She had been haunted by her memories of the nineties and Gene's world and they were getting ever stronger. She worked hard at blocking them out but they wouldn't go away.

"Sugar?"

Robin's voice broke through her thoughts. She nodded and tried to smile.

"Yes please," she said, "just one."

Robin sat down beside her, one mug in each hand, and looked at her seriously. She seemed to have changed so much and in so many ways, in such a short space of time. Her appearance, for one. A few days after the barge situation had ended she made the bold decision to bleach the new short hair she was sporting, taking her mentally back to her time in Gene's world. It hadn't been an easy choice but she couldn't see herself in the mirror with short hair without seeing the bleach-blonde look. As her hair had gone back to her 90s appearance, so the rest of her look had changed too. She had slowly been dressing more androgynously and leaving behind the make-up too. Where a couple of weeks earlier long black skirts and dark, patterned tops were the order of the day she now wore a lot of jeans and plain, masculine shirts, just as she had in Gene's world. Her gothic make-up had phased itself out and now she wore little or nothing on her face. The change in image had struck Robin as a little strange, but he had other concerns too.

"Kim?"

"Hmm?"

"How are you doing?"

Kim frowned.

"In what way, how am I doing?" she asked.

Robin hesitated.

"Your heart," he said quietly.

Kim looked down.

"I'm fine," she said quietly.

"You sure?"

She looked him in the eye.

"Seriously, Robin, I am fine," she said, "unlike you I actually _had_ the tests."

Robin looked at her expectantly.

"And?"

Kim sighed.

"And nothing" she said, "they found nothing. No problems at all. They had me hooked up to every monitor, gave me every scan, took a million blood samples and nothing. There was no conceivable reason why my heart stopped."

Robin hesitated.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" he asked nervously.

Kim stared at him. She knew she was expected to say 'yes'. But she couldn't.

"No," she whispered, "there was no reason behind it. It just happened. Just like yours." She paused as she took a deep breath. "Just like it _'just happened' _to you. Just like _you_ never found out a cause." Her eyes dropped. "Just like we were talking about. On the barge."

Robin swallowed. He didn't want to think about that conversation, or the implications for himself or Kim. He fell silent for a while, trying not to let his mind dwell on it. Eventually he looked back at her and asked,

"How's your elbow?"

"Little sore, but OK," Kim told him, "I wouldn't be helping you decorate otherwise, would I?" she paused. "That reminds me, I've booked you in for Saturday. Ten a.m." She saw him looking a little blank. "Your tattoo," she explained.

Robin smiled.

"I like how the thought of applying paint sloppily to a big wall with a paint roller has reminded you about creating a piece of intricate artwork on my back," he teased.

"What are you going to do to pay me back for all these tattoos then?" Kim asked.

"I told you I'd pay for them!" said Robin, "you don't have to do them for free!"

"Couldn't charge you," said Kim as she sipped her coffee with a slurp, "besides, I want to see how you'll pay me back in kind."

Robin hesitated.

"Get a dog and I'll train it for you," he offered.

"Sod that," said Kim, "I'm not taking one for walks."

Robin shrugged.

"Looks like I'll be making pizza for the next ten years then," he said.

Kim smiled.

"I'm still determined to get you to get something pierced," she teased.

"No way," Robin recoiled, "I had enough of needles with the bloody stiches," he shuddered. The thought of the state of his torso saddened him. Would the scars travel with him when he finally crossed over? Would Simon be repelled? He couldn't shake that fear. He looked down and Kim saw his face falling. She didn't want Robin to start feeling morbid. They'd done far too much of that since Keats had made his way back to the real world. She got to her feet and held out her hand.

"Come on," she said, "Up."

Robin hesitated, then held out his hand and allowed himself to be dragged out of the chair.

"I thought we had to have three coffees first," he said.

"That was teas," said Kim, "since we've got coffees it's time to get to work."

It didn't take them long to get things moving. As soon as they got into Simon's bedroom they'd moved the furniture into the centre of the room and draped sheets all over the place. Kim took a picture frame from the wall and stared at the picture.

"These are his sisters?" she asked.

Robin glanced around.

"Claire and Elaine," he nodded.

Kim studied the picture.

"He doesn't look much like them, does he?" she commented.

"Simon was always the oddball and proud of it," Robin smiled distantly. He felt a sudden heaviness in his heart as the reality began to sink in. He'd stayed in that room so many nights, lying beside Simon, feeling so loved and at ease. Now he was erasing the identity of the room. He knew that he had to do it – he couldn't just take over the room as though nothing was different, he needed to make it his own. But the fact that Simon would never again sleep in that room came crashing down on him all, it was just like the day he found out that Simon had died all over again.

"Hey." There was a hand on his shoulder. Kim looked concerned. "If it's too much we can wait until another day."

Robin hesitated. He almost said yes but eventually he shook his head.

"No," he said quietly, "I'm OK." He took a deep breath. "I think it's time." He stood and looked around the room for a moment before he said, "you get the paint. I'll get Simon's stepladder."

"Simon had a stepladder?" somehow that thought was amusing to Kim.

"Yeah," said Robin, heading out of the room, "he had one. He couldn't work out how to put it up though."

Kim nodded and chuckled.

"That sounds more like it," she said.

~xXx~

Radio blaring, Kim and Robin rolled their paint onto the wall in time to _Stayin' Alive._ In truth, both were ashamed to be doing BeeGees impressions, but no one else would ever know. And it did help them to get the wall painted a little faster. The irony of the song title wasn't lost on them but they decided, for the sake of their sanity, to ignore it.

As the song came to an end and the frantic rolling ended too they realised they were almost halfway through the painting.

"Not bad so far," Robin said as he stood back to admire it.

"Even though you put your paintbrush in your coffee twice," Kim teased.

"It was the paint fumes!" Robin protested, "I was getting all disorientated!"

They sat down on a sheet-covered cabinet in the middle of the room and silence descended for a little while. The paint might have been _Warm Apricot Fuzz_ but there was a white elephant or two in the vicinity and they chose that moment to make an appearance as Robin glanced sideways at Kim and asked,

"Kim? Before the whole Keats and Layton thing happened…"

Kim glanced at him.

"Hmm?"

"You asked me a favour," Robin reminded her. She looked at him a little blankly. It was hard to focus on anything from before Keats arrived. Robin felt himself turning red. "You wanted me to, um," he coughed, "give you a little pot of my DNA."

"Oh… _ohhh,"_ Kim remembered the conversation at last. She closed her eyes and gave a laden sigh. "I don't think we're going to be needing your, uh, _input_ any more."

Robin looked at her sad expression.

"Oh?" he said quietly.

Kim looked down. Her chest felt so heavy she could hardly breathe in.

"Me and Linda," she said quietly, "things haven't been going well."

Robin's brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "is it… is it the rejoining the force issue?"

Kim sighed again.

"Partly," she nodded. She looked away so Robin couldn't see her eyes becoming moist with tears. "She's never been happy about it, right from the moment I brought it up. But it's something I have to do and she just can't understand it. Or won't."

Robin bit his lip.

"And she doesn't like me very much, does she?" he asked.

Kim glanced back at him.

"First we were on the run together, then you call on me for help and I get kidnapped," she said, "what's not to like?" She was trying to make a joke but she knew it wasn't funny. Rob, it's nothing personal, she… I think she's jealous because we had an instant connection. Because of what we've been through." She hung her head. "It's not her fault… it's not _your _fault either… there's nothing that we can do to change that. She doesn't know about that world and it's not like I can ever tell her."

Robin looked at her sympathetically.

"No," he said quietly, "I suppose not." He bit his lip. "Are you going to be alright?"

Kim finally looked him again. She looked very lost and young suddenly.

"I really don't know, Rob," she said quietly, "I thought we were solid… but we were only solid as long as I was keeping that world out of my head. And I don't want to do that any more." She felt butterflies in her belly as her mind strayed slightly and she whispered, "and lately, that's made me think about somebody else."

"Who?" Robin asked.

Despite everything, thinking of Shaz brought a little smile to her face.

"Someone I knew back there," she said quietly.

Robin hesitated.

"Is this the same person that the song made you think about?" he asked.

Kim nodded slowly.

"Now I can't get her out of my head," she whispered, "and suddenly I see all the flaws in our relationship and everything that's wrong."

Robin bit his lip.

"It wasn't Alex was it?" he asked.

"What? _No!" _cried Kim.

"OK, just asking!"

"No… you didn't know her," Kim told him, "besides, _you _were the one with the mind-bending crush on Alex!"

Robin changed colour several times in the space of ten seconds, from deathly pale to pink to bright red to purple and then back to pink again.

"I told you that in confidence," he cried, "never to be mentioned again! And besides, that was all over in a week, stupid pressure of being on the run made my brain go funny."

"I had a snog with her once," Kim boasted.

"With who? _Alex?"_ cried Robin.

"Well, it was a kind of a dare," said Kim, "but a kiss is a kiss. Right?"

"Is there anyone you haven't kissed?" Robin teased.

Kim pulled a face.

"Yeah, Gene Hunt," she said, shuddering at the thought.

Robin laughed as he looked at her expression.

"So was Alex a good kisser?" he asked.

It was Kim's turn to blush.

"I'd give her eight out of ten," she mumbled, "are you _sure_ you don't still have a crush, you seem way too interested."

"Only because I hadn't heard about this kissing dare before," said Robin.

Kim rolled her eyes.

"Are you sure? You were the one who claimed you were tenting all over the place whenever she got too close…"

"Kim! Again, that was told to you in confidence" cried Robin, but he was laughing now.

"I should be offended," Kim told him, "I kissed you and not so much as a flicker!"

"I thought we weren't talking about that," Robin pulled a face.

"You've given me a complex," Kim teased, "never felt so unattractive."

"Shut your trap," Robin teased, dabbing paint on her nose.

Kim swore at him a few times and wiped her nose off on a sheet but by the time her nose was a more normal shade again she was laughing. She was grateful for the humour they shared. Their friendship had been somewhat unlikely and unusual but they brought out the best in each other and for that she was glad.

Robin got to his feet and picked up his roller.

"Come on," he said, "two down, two to go. Ready for some more rolling?"

"There will be pizza at the end of this, won't there?" she asked.

Robin raised an eyebrow.

"Depends on the quality of the painting," he teased.

"Cheeky git," Kim commented as she embarked on painting another wall.

They rolled the paint across the vast expanse for some time in silence, listening to the music and breathing a sigh of relief every time a song that wasn't a _Wham _song came on the radio. Eventually, when they'd been painting for a little while Robin's curiosity got the better of him. He looked back at Kim and he asked,

"Aren't you going to tell me then?"

"Tell you what?" Kim asked, "that you're a big geeky nerd-head?"

"About this wonderful woman who stole your heart on the other side of the line," said Robin.

Kim felt her heart do a flip-flop in her chest as she thought about it. She had never spoken about Shaz, not to anyone. She'd kept it all a secret for such a long time. But with the song, then the heart attack, then the dreams and the voices… her connection to Shaz and her time in Gene's world felt closer than ever. A gentle pink glow spread across her cheeks as she said,

"Well – it all started one night in this club –"

**The End**

**~xXx~**

_**Author's Note: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who followed this story – thank you for reading and thank you for coming along for the ride! Extra big thank yous to Oceancounty and MorganaNK for the reviews and all the laughs too :)**_

_**I wanted to say, I always knew that this story would have limited appeal because it doesn't include the main protagonists of Gene and Alex (well, A brief comatose Alex but that's not quite the same!) but from my point of view this has turned out to be the most enjoyable thing I have written since I got over my writer's block a year and a half ago. And it had helped me through a couple of really, really rough months when the only thing I have felt up to doing was writing. (At this point I am seriously considering Kim and Robin as baby names!)**_

_**Because I've enjoyed it so much I've decided to branch away from just writing A2A fics and I'm letting Robin and Kim loose in their own story which I'm now starting for NaNoWriMo (yes, I know I'm a week late!) and hoping to start posting on FictionPress in a couple of days, to fill in the gap for them until they get to play in the Geneverse again. I'll be posting on there under the same pen name and I've put a link on my profile on here too.**_

_**Thanks again for coming on this journey – I have loved writing every word! x x x**_


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